MASTER 
NEGA  TIVE 

NO  .92-81 095 


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AUTHOR: 


DICKERSON,  EMMA 

RICHARDSON 


TITLE: 


JAMES  STOKES 
DICKERSON  ... 

PLACE* 

NEW  YORK,  CHICAGO 

DATE: 

1879 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 


Master  Negative  # 


BIBLIOGRAPHIC  MICROFORM  TARCFT 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


938.59 
D558 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


-^"irm 


Dickerson,  Janes  Stokes,  1825-1876.- 


-   i 
■if 


1.  DIckersoii.  .Tamos  Stokes,  1825-1876.        i.  Kendrlck,  Asnhel  Clark. 
1800-1895.  joint  author. 

S6-19853 


Library  of  Congress 
Copyright    1870:  2084 


BX0495.D5D5 


Dickerson,  Mrs,  Emma  (Richardson)  1842- 

Jamcs  Stokes  Dickerson :  memories  of  his  life.    By  his  wife, 
Emma  R.  Dickerson,  assisted  by  Prof.  A.  C.  Kendrick  ...    New    . 
York,  Sheldon  &  co.;  Chicago,  S.  C.  Griggs  and  company, 
18(9, 

330  p.    Illus.,  2  port.  (Inch  front.)     19i« 


\ 


922.C73 


J 


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JAMES  STOKES  DICKERSON: 


MEMORIES  OF  HIS  LIFE. 


BY  HIS  WIPE, 

EMMA   R.  DICKERSON, 

ASSISTED  BY 

PROF.    A.    C.    KENDRICK,    D.D., 

OF  THE   UNIVERSITY  OF  ROCHBSTKR. 


NEW  YORK:    SHELDON  &  CO. 
CHICAGO,^' •S.--C.:G1JI&^«:  ^Jf£)  AOMPANY. 


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1879. 


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Trans,  from 
La'vc  Lib. 
Oct.  15.194:0 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1879,  ^Y 

EMMA  R.  DICKERSON, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington, 


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DONITELLBT,  OASajBTSTKi  jfc.iaYEl,  PRUfTltflS,  CHICAGO. 


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4 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 


The  author  of  this  memoir  desires  to  acknowledge 
especial  obligation,  for  aid  in  its  preparation,  to  Prof. 
A.  C.  Kendrick,  D.D.,  Rev.  J.  A.  Smith,  D.D.,  Rev. 
J.  D.  Fulton,  D.D.,  Pres.  M.  B.  Anderson,  L.L.D., 
Rev.  D.  B.  Cheney,  D.D.,  Rev.  E.  K.  Alden,  D.D.,  Rev. 
Geo.  C.  Lorimer,  D.D.,  Pres.  H.  E.  Robins,  D.D.,  Prof. 
W.  C.  Wilkinson,  D.D.,  Rev.  A.  H.  Burlingham,  D.D., 
Rev.  William  Aikman,  D.D.,  and  other  family  friends. 


+ 


INTEODUCTIOX 


Macaulay,  in  one  of  his  brilliant  essays,  declares  that  men 
are  prone  to  extol  the  virtues  and  forget  the  faults  of  the 
honored  ones  who  have  passed  away:  that  they  transform  into 
idols  those  who  were  never  idolized  in  life;  and  often  speak 
of  tiiem  in  such  a  way  that  those  who  knew  them  best  would 
fail  to  recognize  them.  The  general  truth  of  the  statement 
may  be  beyond  question ;  yet  I  willingly  leave  it  to  the  readers 
of  the  following  memorial  to  decide  whether  it  is  without 
exception.  I  feel  assured  that  while,  even  to  many  who  knew 
him,  this  record  of  the  life  of  one  of  God's  choicest  servants 
will  reveal  much  hitherto  unsuspected  by  them,  his  inner  circle 
of  friends  will  rise  from  its  perusal  with  the  conviction  that 
the  portraiture  is  one  of  substantial  truth,  and  yet  that  scarcely 
the  half  has  been  unfolded. 

I  do  not  undertake  this  work  in  the  belief  that  my  late 
husband  was  one  of  the  great  men  of  his  time;  but  in  the 
conviction  that  there  are  comparatively  few  who,  in  this  world 
of  sin  and  selfishness,  live  a  life  so  pure,  so  beautiful,  and  so 
noble  as  his;  few  who  bring  to  all  who  come  into  contact 
with  them  so  much  of  joy  and  sunshine;  few  who  themselves 
labor  from  higher  motives,  or  are  a  source  to  others  of  loftier 
inspiration;  few  who  in  a  long  career  have  kept  themselves  so 
nearly  *'  unspotted  from  the  world,"  or  illustrated  so  beautifully 
the  entire  round  of  the  Christian  graces.  Shall  not  such  be 
deemed  great  in  that  order  of  things  that  brings  to  greatness 
its  proper  standard? 

To  me,  I  may  say  with  frankness,  my  husband  seemed  well- 

(5) 


g  INTRODUCTION. 

nigh  perfect.  To  be  conscious  of  his  true,  deep,  ever-joyous 
love;  to  lean  trustingly  on  his  faithful  arm,  and  bask  in  the 
sunshine  of  his  inspiring  presence;  to  be  radiant  with  joy  in  his 
companionship,  to  sit  under  his  attractive  and  Christ-like  min- 
istry, and  in  turn  to  minister  joyfully  to  his  comfort  amidst 
perpetual  words  of  loving  appreciation  -  all  this  was  to  me 
little  less  than  an  earthly  heaven.  He  was  the  center  and  the  sun 
of  our  happy  household.  His  absence  but  for  a  few  hours  made 
us  sensible  of  a  change  of  atmosphere.  To  hear  his  key  in  the 
door  was  the  signal  that  we  should  be  flooded  with  sunshine 
and  laughter;  that  the  children  would  have  a  good  frolic;  that 
words  of  mingled  tenderness  and  humor  would  be  spoken,  and 
an  electric  tlirill  of  gladness  over  the  coming  of  "  dear  papa " 
would  run  round  the  whole  household  circle. 

Yet  were   this   all,  it  might   be  well  to  cherish   the  happy 
memories  in  the  quietude  of  our  own  hearts  and  home.    Other 
husbands  have  made   homes   happy;    other  wives   have   loved 
them  as  truly  and  tenderly;  other   children   have  looked  with 
loving  reverence  to  those  whom  they  were  proud  to  call  their 
father.    But  this   was   far   from   all.     In  his  boyhood  he  was 
loved  by  all  his  companions;   in  his  youth  every  acquaintance 
became  a  friend;  in  his  college  days  he  was,  by  universal  testi- 
monv,  alike   with   students,   professors,  and   the  community,  a 
universal    favorite.     On   entering   the   world   from   college,  he 
made  friends  of  all  his  business  acquaintances;  was  welcomed 
into  every  circle,  and  carried  (everywhere  not  only  the  light 
of  his  beaming  smile,  of  his  sunny  temper,  of  his  genial  and 
sympathetic  nature,  but  an  instant  and  active  response  to  every 
appeal   oT  human  need  and  sorrow   to   his   warm   heart   and 
unfailing  benevolence;  while  to  the  thousands  who  have  sat 
under  his  ministry  and  shared  his  visits  and  counsels  as  pastor 
and  friend,  his  very  name   is   a  talisman  to  evoke  the  sweetest 
associations  and  the  most  sacred  memories.    Loving  all,  he  was 
loved  by  all.    Living  supremely  for  Christ,  the  affections  and 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

energies  which  he  had  consecrated  to  him  he  poured  out  as 
from  a  full  urn,  lavishly  and  unselfishly,  upon  the  great  work 
of  purifying  and  elevating  men. 

The  story  of  a  life  so  intrinsically  beautiful,  and,  tried  by 
the  true  standard  of  success,  so  eminently  successful,  will  be 
read  with  interest  by  those  who  knew  him,  and  will,  I  am 
persuaded,  prove  to  multitudes  who  knew  him  not,  a  source 
of  moral  quickening  and  inspiration.  The  portrayal  of  it  in 
its  principles  and  its  workings  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  salutary 
and  ennobling.  If  the  evil  that  men  do  too  commonly  lives 
after  them,  it  is  surely  our  duty  and  our  privilege  to  endeavor 
that  virtue  shall  have  a  like  survival,  and  that  the  richest  and 
purest  Christian  graces  shall  not  share  the  grave  of  him  in 
whom  they  were  embodied  to  purify  and  bless  humanity.  I 
sit  down,  therefore,  with  a  happy  heart  to  the  work  of  perpet- 
uating the  memory  of  one  so  dearly  loved,  and  along  with 
this,  so  far  as  I  may,  his  Christ-like  and  blessed  influence. 
For  him  to  live  was  Christ.  May  his  beautiful  life  and  con- 
sistent Christian  example  inspire  in  me  and  others  the  like 
spirit  of  consecration;  may  it  urge  us  to  keep,  like  him,  near 
to  the  Savior,  that  ours  may  at  length  be,  like  his,  the  Apos- 
tolic triumph  that  we  have  fought  the  good  fight,  and  won 
the  crown  of  righteousness  that  awaits  us  in  the  day  of  his 
appearing. 

With  many  precious  memories  of  the  past,  and  bright  hope^ 
of  the  glad  hereafter,  this  little  volume  is  given  to  the  Chris- 
tian public. 

Emma  R.  Dickerson. 


James  S.  Dickebson. 


CHAPTER  I. 


BIRTH    AND    PARENTAGE. 


James  S.  Dickerson  was  born  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia,  July  6,  1825.  His  father,  John 
Dickerson,  was  a  Pennsylvanian  by  birth,  and  a 
prominent  man  in  its  most  populous  city,  and  also 
in  the  county.  He  had  come  to  Philadelphia  when 
a  boy,  and  learned  the  carriage-making  trade  with 
his  brother,  and  very  soon  disclosed  a  remarkable 
genius  for  mechanics,  for  printing,  and  for  music. 
When  he  became  a  man  he  took  many  positions  of 
trust  in  the  community ;  was  elected  coroner  of  the 
city  and  county  of  Philadelphia,  and  at  the  expira- 
tion of  his  term  of  office  was  re-elected  for  three 
years.  For  many  years  he  was  a  lumber  merchant, 
and  invented  a  rule  for  measuring  lumber,  which 
could  be  used  as  a  cane.  He  made  the  canes  him- 
self, stamped  all  the  figures  upon  them,  and  finished 
them  at  home  in  the  evenings. 

Although  a  good  business  man,  and  familiar  with 
public  and  official  life,  he  was  even  better  known  in 
social  circles.  Prepossessing  in  appearance,  genial 
in  manner,  full  of  humor,  and  an  excellent  musician, 

(9) 


10 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON 


liEMINISCENCES. 


11 


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he  was  a  favorite  wherever  such  qualities  had  scope, 
and  was  constantly  required,  alike  at  weddings  and 
evening  gatherings,  to  lend  the  charm  of  his  pres- 
ence and  voice  to  the  entertainment.     He  composed 
church  music,  engraved  his  own  plates,  and  printed 
his  own  compositions.     Some  of  his  books  are  still 
in    existence.'    Braham,    of    England,    who    during 
these  years  was  a  noted  vocalist,  when   he  visited 
America,  went  to  Philadelphia  to  see  "  John  Dick- 
erson,  the  singer  and   composer."     He  was  a  very 
conscientious    man    and    one    who    loved    to  make 
others    happy.     In    a    large,    comfortable   building 
which   he  owned   near  his    house,  he    had   during 
winter  evenings  his  singing  classes:  one,  for  those 
who  paid  him  for  their  instruction  a  moderate  sum, 
and  the  other,  for  the  poor.     The  money  he  received 
was  spent  in  buying  singing  books  for  such  of  those 
whom  he  wished  to  teach  as  were  unable  to  pay,  so 
that  all  might  be  able  to  sing  in  church  correctly. 
His  singing  served  him  many  a  good  turn.    Once, 
while  journeying  from   Philadelphia  to  Ohio,  alter- 
nately by  stage-coach,  or  canal,  or  on  foot,  he  stopped 
for  dinner  at  a  farm-house.    He  had  been  walking  for 
miles,  and  had  about  thirty  more  to  travel  before  he 
reached  the    stage-coach    line   again.     Seeing  in  a 
field  near  the  house  a  fine  white  colt,  he  asked  the 
woman,  who  had   just   given   him  a  good  bowl  of 
bread  and  milk,  to  let  him  saddle  the  colt  and  ride 
these  thirty  miles.     Such  was  the  custom  of  those 
days,  some  one  returning  over  the   route  bringing 
back  the  horse    the  next   day.     She  refused  to  let 
him  take  it.     As  he  sat  resting  he  began  to  sing  a 


plaintive  song,  entitled  "Joseph  and  his  brethren." 
Before  he  had  finished  the  first  two  stanzas,  the 
woman  stopped  her  work  and  wept.  As  he  ceased 
singing  she  turned  and  said,  with  a  trembling  voice, 
"  Sing  me  the  rest  of  that  song,  sir,  and  you  may 
have  the  colt."  His  singing  did  not  quite  equal,  in 
its  effects,  the  "  redemption  "  that  "  rose  up  in  the 
Attic  Muse  "  when  the  plaintive  strains  of  Euripides, 
chanted  by  the  Athenian  captives,  softened  their 
masters  in  the  Sicilian  quarries  ;  but,  at  all  events, 
it  saved  him  a  hot  and  dusty  walk  of  thirty  miles. 

His  conscientiousness  was  as  striking  as  his  music, 
of  which  trait  a  slight  illustration  is  preserved  in 
the  following  incident  of  his  boyhood.  While  with 
his  brother  in  the  carriage  -  making  trade  he  was 
sent,  as  they  were  in  but  moderate  circumstances, 
with  a  jug  to  buy  a  small  quantity  of  oil.  For  the 
dollar  which  he  handed  the  merchant  in  payment, 
he  received  four  silver  pieces,  each  of  which  he  sup- 
posed to  be  a  quarter  of  a  dollar.  As  he  looked  at 
them,  he  resolved  to  keep  one  of  the  quarters  and 
give  his  brother  the  three  to  which  he  was  entitled. 
He  had  more  than  a  mile  to  walk:  the  jug  with  its 
rope  handle  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  carry,  and  he 
had  frequently  to  sib  down  and  rest  on  the  way. 
But  the  more  he  rested  in  body,  the  more  he  grew 
unquiet  in  his  conscience,  until  when  he  nearly 
reached  home,  the  inner  burden  became  heavier 
than  the  outer,  and  forced  him  with  the  double 
weight  all  the  way  back.  Showing  the  merchant 
the  coin  he  had  given  him,  and  saying  that  it  was 
too  much,  he  was  asked  how  soon  he  had  made  the 


12 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


discovery.     He  replied,  "  As  soon  as  I  left  the  store, 
but  I  was  almost  home  before  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  return  the  money."    The  merchant  explained  that 
the  boy  was  mistaken   in  the  value  of  the  pieces, 
that  the  change  he  had  given  him  was  right,  ''  and 
here,"  he  added,  ''  is  a  quarter  dollar  for  your  hon- 
esty."    The  incident  no  doubt  strengthened  those 
conscientious   principles  which   became   prime   ele- 
ments   of    his    character,    and    of    which    another 
pleasing  trait  is  recorded.     He  accepted  the  office 
of  Coroner  —  then  more  reputable  than  it  is  now  — 
for  a  definite  and  noble  purpose.     It  was  an  old-time 
custom  in  Philadelphia  for  the  twelve  jurors  who 
held  the  inquest,  to  receive,  instead  of  the  dollar 
each,  to  which  the  law  entitled  them,  a  rousing  treat 
of  liquor  from  the  Coroner ;    and  to  do  away  with 
the  usage,  Mr.  John  Dickerson  accepted  the  office. 
A  reformer  before  the  temperance  reformation,  he 
succeeded  in  abolishing  the  graceless  custom,  though 
at  the  cost  of  incurring  much  displeasure.     Yet  his 
weight  of  character  overcame  the  popular  resent- 
ment, and  he  was  re-elected  to  the  office. 

It  will  be  readily  seen  where  James  inherited  many 
of  his  personal  traits,  and  they  were  even  more  pro- 
nounced in  the  son  than  in  the  father.  The  humor 
that  played  over  every  subject,  and  the  wit  that 
often  flashed  like  lightning  to  its  core  ;  the  social 
grace  and  geniality,  the  musical  taste  and  talent, 
and  more  than  all,  the  stern  conscientiousness  that 
refused  to  compromise  with  wrong,  were  in  no  small 
degree  transmitted  to  James  from  his  father. 

His  maternal  descent  was  equally  reputable.     The 


REMINISCENCES. 


13 


father  of  his  mother,  Thomas  Stokes,  was  born  in 
London,  England,  in  1765,  and  "was  born  again," 
in  the  hxnguage  of  his  diary,  "in  1783.'*  Though 
occupying  a  position  in  London  which  gave  him 
access  to  the  highest  and  most  fashionable  circles, 
his  chief  pleasures  were  in  communion  with  God 
and  his  people,  and  his  chief  activity  devoted  to  the 
cause  of  the  Redeemer.  He  was  associated  with 
Robert  Raikes  in  originating  that  characteristic  insti- 
tution of  the  modern  church,  the  Sunday  school ; 
under  the  ministrations  of  Rowland  Hill,  to  whose 
congregation  he  attached  himself,  he  was  among  the 
first  to  feel  the  throbbings  of  the  missionary  spirit 
then  awaking  in  England ;  did  much  by  his  corre- 
spondence to  promote  and  develop  it ;  aided  in  the 
formation  of  the  London  Missionary  Society,  and 
was  one  of  the  last  to  leave  the  deck  of  the  first 
missionary  ship,  "  The  Duff,"  that  in  September, 
1796,  bore  twenty-nine  missionaries  to  Tahiti.  In 
1798  he  left  England  for  New  York ;  was  baptized 
in  1807  into  the  Baptist  Church,  by  Rev.  Charles 
Lahatt,  and  when,  under  the  then  young  and  elo- 
quent preacher,  Archibald  Maclay,  the  Mulberry 
Street  Church  was  organized,  he  became  a  deacon 
in  that  church,  which  office  he  held  till  death.  Nor 
had  he  left  behind  him  his  glowing  missionary  zeal. 
He  was  present  at  the  formation  of  the  Baptist 
General  Convention  for  Missions  in  Philadelphia,  in 
1814  ;  was  for  a  few  years  its  treasurer,  and  a  fast 
friend  of  it  till  his  death.  His  religious  working 
was  equally  efficient  outside  of  his  own  denomina- 
tion.    He  was  in  1816  one  of  the  founders  of  the 


14 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


American  Bible  Society ;  was  associated  with  Will- 
iam Ladd,  David  L.  Dodge,  and  Anson  G.  Phelps, 
in  founding  the  New  York  Peace  Society,  and  in 
1825  aided  in  organizing  the  American  Tract  Society, 
of  whose  Managing  Board  and  Committee  on  Dis- 
tribution he  was  an  active  member.  He  died  a  tri- 
umphant Christian  death  in  October,  1832.  His 
grandson,  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  prepared  a  few 
years  ago  a  small  "  In  Memoriam  "  volume,  a  worthy 
and  beautiful  tribute  to  a  life  of  unobtrusive,  but 
active  piety,  and  most  efficient  and  varied  service  to 
the  cause  of  Christ. 

He  left  a  large  family  of  children,  of  whom  several 
are  still  living  in  New  York  as  prominent  and  reput- 
able merchants.     One  of  them,  James  Stokes,  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  Anson  G.  Phelps,  and  has  long 
been  a  member  of  the  well-known  firm  of  Phelps, 
Dodge  &   Co.     The  mother  of  James,  Eliza  Ann, 
was\orn  in  Sing  Sing,  N.  Y.,  October  19,  1798. 
She  was  married  to  Mr.  Dickerson  in   1818,  their 
mutual  interest  having  been  awakened  while  she 
was  attending  upon  him  when  received  in  illness, 
as  a  transient  guest,  under  the   hospitable  roof  of 
her  father.     She  was  in  every  way  an  admirable 
woman,  of  sterling  sense  and  consistent  piety,  and 
some  of  her  son  James'  mental  and  moral  qualities 
exhibited  a  fine  blending  of  the  maternal  with  the 
paternal  characteristics.    The  marriage  was  a  happy 
one,  but  of  brief  duration,   she   dying  a  death  of 
Christian  peace  and  triumph,  February  11,  1830,  at 
the  early  age  of  thirty-two.     Her  husband  survived 
her  six  years,  and  having  married  again  an  excellent 


BROTHERS    AND   SISTERS. 


15 


and  loving  young  woman,  by  whom  he  left  two 
children,  died  in  May,  1836,  after  a  short  illness,  at 
the  early  age  of  forty-four. 

The  fruit  of  the  first  union  was  six  children. 
They  were  Anne  Eliza,  who  afterwards  became  Mrs. 
Gilbert  Colgate ;  Thomas,  who  for  twenty  years  has 
lived  in  Chicago,  a  member  of  (Dr.  Everts')  the 
First  Baptist  Church,  having  been  converted  a  short 
time  before  James,  under  the  preaching  of  Elder 
Jacob  Knapp,  in  New  York  ;  Sarah  Grace,  who  mar- 
ried Samuel  B.  VanDusen,  of  Philadelphia,  but  who 
for  many  years  has  lived  in  New  York  City ;  John, 
who  was  brought  up  in  New  York,  and  has  been  a 
successful  merchant  there  for  many  years ;  James, 
who  at  the  time  of  his  mother's  death  was  about 
four  years  old ;  and  an  infant  that  survived  its 
mother  but  a  short  time. 

The  death  of  the  mother  parti^-lly  divided  the 
family^for  a  time,  Anne  Eliza,  Grace,  and  John  being 
brought  to  the  home  of  their  grand-parents  in  New 
York,  while  Thomas  and  James  remained  with  their 
father  in  Philadelphia.  The  second  marriage  of 
their  father  reunited  them  for  a  season.  But  the 
death  of  their  father,  in  1836,  again  broke  up  the 
household.  Many  friends  and  relatives  from  New 
York  attended  the  funeral,  among  them  the  uncle, 
Mr.  James  Stokes,  from  whom  he  was  named,  and 
who  for  many  years  in  after  life  generously  aided 
and  befriended  him.  He  brought  James,  now  nearly 
eleven  years  old,  with  him  to  New  York.  James 
stayed  a  short  time  with  his  grandmother,  and  in  the 
Autumn  was  sent  with  his  brother  John  to  New- 


16 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


burgh  on  the  Hudson,  to  attend  the  Academy  in 
that  place.  Here  they  remained  three  years,  board- 
ing with  Mr.  James,  a  Baptist  clergyman,  and  spend- 
ing their  vacations  with  their  grandmother  in  New 
York,  or  with  their  elder  sister,  Mrs.  Gilbert  Col- 
gate. As  their  father  had  left  but  a  small  property, 
their  uncles  thought  it  best  to  invest  it,  letting  them 
know  nothing  of  it  until  they  should  come  of  age ; 
they  themselves,  therefore,  paid  the  bills  for  the 
boys'  board  and  instruction,  while  their  grandmother 
furnished  their  clothing. 

During  all  these  early  years  James  was  known 
as  a  bright,  kind-hearted,  and  truthful  boy.  His 
word  could  be  thoroughly  depended  upon,  and  any 
plausible  excuse  for  wrong-doing  manufactured  by 
his  companions  was  instantly  stripped  of  its  dis- 
guise, and  lost,  discountenanced,  and  like  false- 
hood showed,  as  his  honest  tongue  responded  to 
the  paternal  appeal,  "  Come,  Jimmie,  get  up  into 
my  lap,  and  tell  me  just  how  it  was."  The  child 
was  father  of  the  man,  and  rarely  has  this  prophetic 
quality  of  childhood  been  clearer  in  its  utterance, 
or  more  sure  in  its  fulfillment. 


CHAPTER  II. 


EARLY  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK,  AND  CONVERSION. 


On  James'  return  from  Newburgh,  his  uncles, 
practical  business  men,  who  had  achieved  their 
own  fortunes,  conceived  it  best  for  him  to  enter 
upon  some  employment  that  should  prepare  him 
for  the  business  life  to  which  they  considered  him 
destined.  He  was  about  thirteen  years  of  age,  and 
though  small  of  stature,  was  active,  intelligent,  and 
full  of  common  sense  and  practical  philosophy. 
His  uncles  found  a  position  for  him  in  the  dry-goods 
store  of  a  Mr.  Thomas  Pattison,  on  the  corner  of 
Division  Street  and  the  Bowery.  Mr.  Pattison, 
though  a  Moravian,  did  not  carry  any  Moravian 
scruples  into  his  business,  and  was  hard  and  stern 
toward  his  clerks,  from  whom  he  exacted  abundant 
labor  for  very  scanty  pay.  It  was  the  duty  of  little 
Jimmie,  slight  and  delicate  in  frame,  to  take  care 
of  the  fires,  bring  up  the  coal  through  a  scuttle  in 
the  floor  from  the  cellar,  take  down,  in  the  raw, 
cold  mornings,  the  heavy  shutters  from  the  win- 
dows, keep  the  store  in  order,  run  on  errands,  wait 
on  customers,  and,  in  fact,  do  all  the  drudgery  that 
generally  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  youngest  and  smallest 
boy  in  the  store.  He  received  for  the  first  year  of 
this  service  nothing  but  his  board.  He  slept,  during 
1*  (17; 


18 


JA.MES   S.  DICKERSON. 


this  time,  on  the  counter,  his  bed  consisting  of  pieces 
of  cloth,  without  any  pillow ;  yet  he  slept  the  sweet 
sleep  of  youth  and  labor.  He  took  his  meals  at 
Mr.  Pattison's,  near  by,  being  sent  round  after  the 
return  of  the  master  and  the  older  clerks,  to  make 
the  best  of  what  was  left.  It  was  not  long,  how- 
ever, before  Mrs.  Pattison  discovered  the  loveliness 
of  the  character  to  whose  physical  wants  she  was 
ministering,  and  nice  little  -tid-bits"  thoughtfully 
put  away  for  him,  and  a  warm  plate-full  just  from 
the  oven,  often  evinced  her  kindness,  and  called 
forth  his  gratitude.  As  his  work  was  not  harder, 
nor  his  pay  less  than  that  of  some  of  the  other  boys, 
he  made  no  complaint. 

James,  during  this  time,  rarely  saw  his  relatives 
except  on  the  Sabbath,  when,  dressed  in  his  Sunday 
suit,  provided  for  him  by  his  grandmother,  he  met 
them  with  bright  looks  and  a  happy  heart.     Slender 
and  delicate  in  health  he  had  pride  and  pluck  that 
would  not  admit  an  inferiority  in  capacity  of  work 
to  stouter  boys.      Though  often  sickly,  and  living 
in  conscious  orphanage,  he   was  rarely  sad  or  des- 
ponding.     His  buoyancy  of  spirit  was  almost  unfail- 
inc. ;    he  was  grateful  for  having  something  to  do ; 
he  had  lost  his  parents  too  early  to  allow  him  fully 
to  estimate  their  worth,  or  the  absence  of  parental 
care;    "and,"   he  added,  when  questioned  on  the 
matter,  "  after  my  conversion  I  was  happy  nearly 
all  the  time."      Thus   his    friends    could    scarcely 
suspect   that   he  was    not  comfortably  situated  in 
the  store,  and  receiving  just  the  discipline  which 
he  needed ;    as  he  told  them  nothing  of  his  hard- 


EARLY  LIFE    IN  NEW  YORK. 


19 


ships,  they  could  not,  of  course,  relieve  them.     He 

often,  indeed,  received  little  presents  from  them  of 

articles  of  clothing,  and  sometimes  his  grandmother, 

or  one  of  his  uncles  would  put  a  silver  half  dollar 

into  his  hands,  a  much  larger  sura  thirty-five  years 

ago  than  now.     Still  his  supply  of  money  was  of  the 

scantiest.     The  tempting  doughnuts  displayed  in  the 

shop  windows,   sold,  with   their  accompanying  cup 

of  coffee,  for  Hve  cents,  he  often  turned  reluctantly 

away  from,   though  beheld   with  hungry  eyes  and 

an  empty  stomach  ;    as  his  sensitive  and  fastidious 

appetite  refused  much  of  the  food  that  was  indulged 

in  by  heartier  boys,  and  a  substantial  boiled  dinner, 

or  one  of  pork  and  beans,  but  mocked  his  hunger 

with  the  mere  name  of  a  repast. 

His  later  habit  of  prayer  was  already  formed  and 
strictly  observed.      His  closet  was  a  corner  of  the 
coal-cellar,  and  he  watched  anxiously  for  the  coal- 
scuttle to  be  empty,  that  he  might  go  and  have  "  a 
little  talk  with  God,"  and  ask  Him  to  keep   him 
patient  under  continual  provocation  ;  honest  amidst 
the   business    untruthfulness    constantly    practiced 
around  him;    and  successful  in  pleasing  customers 
and  earning  his  living.     The  frequent  scoldings  of 
his   master   made   him    apprehensive    that   he   was 
duller  than  ordinary  boys,  and  would  never  amount 
to  any  thing;  and  this  apprehension  led  him  to  con- 
stant prayer  for    help   from   above.     Many  of   his 
friends  have  heard  from   him   his  "parasol  story." 
Two  ladies  one  day  came  into  the  store  looking  for 
parasols,  and  Jimmie  did   his   best  to  display  the 
merits  of  his  articles.     The  ladies  hesitated  about 


20  JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 

taking  them,  as  they  wanted  two  not  only  similar  in 
style,  but  identical  in  shade.     James  saw  Mr.  Patti- 
son  watching  him  from  the  rear  of  the  store,  and 
knew  well  the  sharp  words  that  awaited  him  in  case 
he  failed  to  make  a  sale.     He  had  seen  parasols  at  a 
store  near  by  from  the  same  factory,  and  told  the 
ladies  that  if  they  would  select  one,  he  would  try 
to  match  it,  and  take  them  to  their  homes.     They 
acquiesced  and  gave  him  their  address.    When  they 
had  gone,  Mr.  Pattison  said  gruffly,  "  Well,  a  big 
sale  you  made ;   you  will  be  a  money-making  mer- 
chant."    Jinimie  replied  that  he  thought  he  would 
sell  them  vet.     "  Very  likely  ! "  was  the  half-sneer- 
ing response ;  "  don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  your 
feet  while  you  are  gone."      Thus   encouraged,  he 
hastened  away,  found  a  parasol  of  the  desired  shade, 
and  started  for  the  home  of  the  ladies.     On  his  way 
the  prayer  was  constantly  on  his  lips,  "  Lord  help 
me,  do   help  me  to  sell   the  parasols ! "     And  the 
boy  always  believed  that  the  Lord  helped  him,  and 
it  may  well  be  questioned  whether    his  faith  was 
not  the  deeper  philosophy,  and  whether  it  is  not 
ricrht  and  wise   to  believe   that  the  God  who  suf- 
fers no  sparrow   to   fall   unnoticed   to  the  ground, 
did  help  an  honest-hearted  praying  boy  to  sell  his 
■  parasols.     At  all  events  he   sold  them,  and  when 
he  modestly  handed   the   money   to   his  employer 
hoping  for    some    commendatory  words,  the   gruff 
reply  was,  "Well,  you  sold  them,  did  you?  'Tis  a 
wonder. "     Such  were  the  daily,  almost  hourly,  trials 
of  the  tender-hearted  little  fellow  in   his   faithful 
and  almost  unintermitted  labors.     The  store  was 


REMimSCENCES. 


21 


* 


■  W 


kept   open   until    eight  o'clock,    and    on   Saturday 
evenings  until  after   ten  o'clock;    then  he  used  to 
mend  his  clothes,  and  sometimes   even    his    shoes, 
as    best    he    could ;    and    he    used    laughingly    to 
recount  the    bitter   disappointment  with  which   he 
once  discovered  that  he  had  spent  a  long  evenino- 
in  mending  his  much-worn  pantaloons  with  a  blue 
patch,  instead  of  a  black  one,  making  them  even 
more   unsightly  than    before.     During  the  Winter 
he  needed  many  articles  of  clothing,  but  cheerfully 
went  on  his  way  with  the   few  that  he  possessed. 
Why  the   brave  little  boy  did  not  let  his  friends 
know  the  necessities  which  they  would  have  hastened 
to  relieve,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine.    His  buoyant 
spirit  made  light  of   these   merely   outward   evils, 
and   his  sensitive  nature   shrank  from  unduly  tax- 
ing  the   generosity   which,   he    felt,   had    already 
made  him  so  largely  their  debtor.      Meantime   his 
uniformly   neat    appearance    and   cheerful   manner 
prevented    them    from    suspecting    the    straits    to 
which  he  was  driven. 

His  strength  of  principle  at  this  early  time  is 
illustrated  by  the  following  incident.  It  was  more 
customary  then  than  now  to  send  goods  to  houses 
for  inspection,  and  James  was  once  sent  with  two 
pieces  of  silk  to  a  house  on  one  of  the  avenues. 
In  talking  with  its  inmates,  he  noticed  their  singu- 
lar deportment,  yet  in  the  innocence  of  his  guileless 
youth  failed  to  understand  it.  But  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  that  this  must  be  a  disreputable 
house,  such  as  he  had  heard  the  larger  boys  speak 
of,  and  further  reflection  confirmed  his  suspicion. 


22 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON-. 


REMINISCENCES. 


23 


The  women  ordered  a  certain  number  of  yards  from 
each  piece,  and  he  was  glad  to  get  out  of  the  house 
with  his  parcel.  On  returning  with  the  order,  and 
being  directed  to  measure  off  the  goods  and  take 
them  home,  he  replied,  "  I  will  measure  them  off, 
Mr.  Pattison,  but  I  can  not  go  to  that  house  again." 
"What  is  the  reason  you  can  not?''  rejoined  Mr. 
Pattison.  "  Because,  sir,  it  is  a  wicked  house,  and 
I  will  not  go  there  again."  ''  The  very  reason  why  I 
sent  you,  Jimmie ;  you  are  the  only  boy  in  the  store 
whom  I  can  trust  to  go  there."  But  he  would  not' 
go,  and  —  "  Thank  the  dear  Lord  "  —  added  the  nar- 
rator, "  it  is  the  only  time  that  I  ever  saw  the  inside 
of  such  a  place."  Few  boys  of  thirteen  would  have 
had  the  principle  and  courage  to  obey  their  con- 
sciences in  refusing  to  be  employed  on  such  an 
errand;  still  fewer,  perhaps,  would  have  had  any 
conscience  about  it. 

Shut  out  largely  from  the  sports  and  amuse- 
ments familiar  to  most  boys  of  his  position  in  life, 
and  doomed  through  all  the  seasons  to  nearly  unre- 
mitted drudgery,  he  yet  had  one  regularly  recur- 
ring season  of  purest  recreation  and  unalloyed  enjoy- 
ment. The  morning  cry  of  the  newsboys  with  their 
Sunday  papers,  breaking  on  his  dreaming  ear,  sig- 
naled the  return  of  God's  day  of  Sabbath  rest,  and 
he  sprang  from  his  counter  in  the  glad  anticipation 
of  his  twelve  hours'  intermission  from  anxious  toil, 
and  twelve  hours'  revelling  in  the  bliss  of  an  earthly 
heaven.  The  peal  of  the  church -going  bells  that 
followed  was  responded  to  with  joyful  eagerness, 
and   the   thrill  of    delight   which    they   awakened 


i 

I 


vibrated  through  all  his  after  experience.  The 
"sweet  evening  bells"  of  the  poet  awakened  no 
such  sacred  enthusiasm  as  did  in  future  Sabbaths 
that  morning  melody  that  recalled  to  him  those 
oases  of  peace  and  joy  amidst  the  dreary  solitudes 
of  the  great  city.  Nine  o'clock  found  him  in  the  Sab- 
bath-school, at  the  Tabernacle,  where  W.  W.  Everts, 
then  a  young  man,  was  the  pastor.  He  loved  to 
study  the  Bible,  and  to  join  in  singing  the  Songs  of 
Zion.  He  then  attended  the  preaching  service, 
went  in  the  afternoon  again  to  the  Sabbath-school, 
staying  to  the  prayer-meeting  which  followed,  and, 
after  dining  with  some  of  his  relatives,  returned 
joyfully  to  the  evening  service,  with  its  introduc- 
tory prayer-meeting.  He  retired  happy  in  the  recol- 
lections of  the  day,  grateful  for  the  privileges  he 
was  favored  with,  and  strengthened,  morally  at 
least,  if  not  physically,  foi*  the  struggles  of  another 
week.  Possibly  the  religious  service  was  overdone  ; 
yet  the  revelation  of  the  boy's  nature  was  a  beauti- 
ful one,  and  excessive  religious  devotion  is,  perhaps, 
in  our  day  too  rare  to  demand  severe  criticism.  We 
need  scarcely  set  up  a  warning  finger-post  at  this 
point  of  James'  example. 

All  this  time  he  was  any  thing  but  cantiiigly,  or 
even  austerely,  or  even  professedly,  pious.  He 
overflowed  with  merriment ;  jokes  and  comicalities, 
funny  stories  and  witty  rhymes  were  ever  on  his 
lips,  and  everything  innocent  and  beautiful  drew 
forth  his  heartiest  sympathy.  Yet  he  seemed 
in  his  nature  religious ;  he  gravitated  naturally 
to   the  true    and    the   right,    and    exerted    uncon- 


.m 


24 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


sciously  on  all  around  him  a  beneficent  influence. 
The  clerks  in  the  store,  while  they  spoke  lightly 
of  his  devotion  to  the  church  and  the  Sabbath- 
school,  yet  loved  him  and  respected  his  princi- 
ples. One  of  them,  twice  his  age,  having  become 
sick  and  been  obliged  to  leave  the  store,  sent 
for  James  to  his  home  in  New  Jersey,  that  he 
might  talk  with  him  on  religion.  James  obeyed  the 
summons,  read  the  Scriptures,  prayed  with  and 
instructed  him,  and  had  the  happiness  afterwards 
of  learning  that  he,  a  lad  of  fourteen,  had  been 
the  means  of  leading  his  former  associate  to  the 
Savior.  This  was  after  his  conversion,  yet  he  would 
never  have  been  thus  sent  for  but  for  the  confi- 
dence and  affection  which  his  previous  conduct  had 
inspired. 


CHAPTER  III. 


CONVERSION. 


To  the  reader  of  the  last  chapter  it  will  appear 
that   James   scarcely   needed    conversion,   and    the 
heading  of  this  will  seem  like  a  misnomer.     Perhaps 
it  is  so.     Some  natures  are  so  finely  constituted  that 
it  is  hard  to  tell  where  the  religion  of  nature  blends 
with   the   religion  of  grace ;  where   the   "  almost '' 
becomes    the    "quite;"    where    the    garment    of 
unwonted  human  loveliness  is  touched  into  spiritual 
beauty  by  the  hand  of  the  Divine  Adorner.     Such 
a  transformation  every  believer  has  undergone  ;  a 
John  as  well  as  a  Paul.     The  realms  of  natural  and 
of  gracious  excellence  seem    conterminous,   yet  an 
unfathomable  gulf  lies  between  them,  and  across  it 
leads  only  the  *'  living  way  that  has  been  sprinkled 
with  the  blood  of  Jesus."     Whether  our  yDung  hero 
had  as  yet   actually  made  this  great  transition,  or 
whether  his  seeming  Christian  virtues  were  but  the 
fruits  of  a  happily   constituted  nature,  it  is  fortu- 
nately not  necessary  for  us  to  decide.     Enough  that 
James,  with  all  his  spontaneous  piety,  did  not  yet 
regard  himself  as  a  Christian ;  and  he  looked  to  the 
second  year  of  his  stay  in  the  store  as  the  eventful 
period  in  which  he  experienced  the   great  change 
that  made  him  a  child  of  God  and  an  heir  of  Heaven. 


(26  ) 


26 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


CONVERSION. 


27 


Of  one  who  was  before  so  near  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  it  might  have  been  confidently  predicted 
that  this  blessed  consummation  was  not  distant.  The 
happy  event  took  place  in  connection  with  the 
preaching  of  Rev.  Jacob  Knapp,  who  in  the  Winter 
of  1839  and  1840,  held  a  series  of  meetings  with  the 
First  Baptist  Church  in  Brooklyn.  These  meetings 
were  largely  attended  from  New  York,  and  among 
others  James  frequently  attended  them  along  with 
the  family  of  Deacon  William  Colgate.  The  meet- 
ings were  subsequently  renewed  in  the  New  York 
Tabernacle,  and  attended  by  a  powerful  revival. 
James  was  among  the  subjects  of  the  revival,  and, 
uniting  himself  with  the  church,  began  not,  possibly, 
a  more  really,  but  a  more  avowedly  Christian  life ; 
certainly  a  life  that  never  henceforth  faltered  in  its 
devotion  to  the  cause  of  Christ.  But  we  let  him 
tell  his  own  story  in  the  following  letter,  written 
from  Wilmington  in  1862,  to  Samuel  Colgate  : 

Wilmington,  March  5,  1862. 

My  Dear  Friend  :  How  many  pleasant  and  how 
manv  tender  associations  did  the  well-known  chirography 
on  the  envelope  of  your  letter  of  the  28th  ult.  awaken! 
Startincr  at  the  old  office  in  Dutch  Street,  where  I  was 
wont  for  awhile  to  "  copy  "  your  letters  and  mail  them, 
I  soon  ran  back  to  old  John  Street,  where  the  forms  of 
the  loved  dead  and  those  of  the  loved  living  mingled 
again  in  all  the  social  and  religious  joys  of  twenty  years 
gone  by,  and  I  thought  of  Ann  Eliza,  and  Gilbert,  of 
William  the  brother,  and  that  sweet  little  sister,  the 
youngest  of  all.     But  these  seemed  to  have  faded  upon 


my  memory  to  some  extent.     Not  so  your  mother  and 
sister  Sarah— -two  of  the  warmest  and  truest  friends  I 
ever  had,  at  a  time  when  I  needed  them,  oh!  how  greatly. 
Your  father  seemed  ever  to  me  a  companion  of  about 
my  own  age,  so  simple-hearted,  so  genial  and  so  com- 
panionable was  he.     He  used  always  to  take  my  arm 
when   we  walked,  and  with  a   sort  of  cosy  way  which 
seemed  to  say,  "just  we  two;"  and  off  we  would  trudge, 
he  seemingly  e.ijoying  my  talk,  and  jokes  and  stories' 
as  much  as  1  enjoyed  his.     These  three,  mother,  father, 
and  Sarah,   live   in   my  memory   well   defined  and  em- 
balmed, I  think,  forever.     My  happiest  hours  for  years 
together,  were  in  their  company.      You  have  doubtless 
forgotten  that  in  1840  — almost  a  quarter  of  a  century 
ago  — a  little  boy  was  found  upon  his  knees,  in  the  old 
Mulberry  Street  lecture-room,  after  most  of  the  audience 
had  retired,  sobbing  as  though  his  heart   would  break, 
and  trying  to  offer  one  little  prayer,  "  God  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner.''     Your  father  asked  old   Mr.  Whitte- 
more  whose  boy  it  was,  and  he  did  not  know;  and  as  you 
bent  down   to  give   a  word  of  comfort  and  advice,  you 
asked   the   convicted    little    sinner   his   name,   and   he 
sobbed  out  "James  Dickerson."     The  next  day  the  old 
Bowery  rang  with  a  new  song, 

"  Oh,  how  happy  are  they 
Who  their  Savior  obey !  " 

By  the  grace  of  God  I  shall  sing  of  those  days  in 
heaven!  It  was  indeed  the  beginning  of  "a  new  life" 
to  me  —  being  "  born  again."  So,  Sammie,  you  see  it  is 
rather  dangerous  to  touch  any  chord  in  my  heart  that 
vibrates  back  to  that  time,  and  there  are  few  of  my  past 
associations  that  do  not.  And  now  let  me  answer  your 
letter  before  I  forget  it !     *     *     *     Make  my  kindest 


28 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


CONVERSION. 


29 


regards  to  Mrs.  Colgate,  and  tell  her  you  all  owe  me  a 
visit,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you  "  pay  up," 
for  we  are  needing  the  visits  just  now. 

AiFectionately  Yours, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

About  two  months  elapsed  between  his  conversion 
and  his  baptism,  some  of  the  deacons  feeling  that  in 
the   case  of  one  so  young    the  genuineness  of  his 
change  should  be  attested  by  the  most  decisive  evi- 
dence.   During  this  time  he  labored  zealously  in  the 
Sunday-school,  spoke  in  the  prayer-meetings,  talked 
to  his  companions  in  the  store  of  his  new  hopes,  and 
invited   them    to   the   meetings   with  him,  setting, 
meantime,  to  all  about  him  an  example  of  truth  and 
purity.     His  employer  sometimes  taunted  him  with 
the  uselessness  of  this  new-found  piety  and  devotion 
to  the  church,  and   intimated  that  it  was  spoiling 
him  for  business.     Yet  when  James  gave  utterance 
to  the  already  conceived  thought  that  he  might  one 
day  become  a  preacher,  he  changed  his  tone,  and 
reprobated   the  idea  of  his  exchanging  his  present 
business  for  one  for  which  he  had  no  capacity.     In 
truth,  he  thoroughly  appreciated  his  excellent  quali- 
ties, relied  on  him  beyond  any  other  of  his  clerks, 
reposed  in  him   the  amplest  confidence,  and,  when 
James  finally  left  for  Hamilton,  offered  him  large 
inducements  to  remain.     When  James  left,  he  had 
to  employ  two  persons  in  the  place  which  he  had 
occupied. 

James  had,  however,  yet  some  severe  trials  with 
him.     On  the  evening  on  which  he  was  to  appear 


„»«. 


before  the  church,  he  asked  Mr.  P.  to  request  one 
of  the  clerks  to  close  the  shutters  and  attend  to  the 
matters  that  generally  devolved  on  him,  as  he  was 
obliged   to  go  to   meeting.      Mr.   Pattison    replied: 
''  No,  I  will  not ;   and  I  should  like  to  know  what 
obliges  you  to  go  to  meeting."     James  said  that  he 
was  to  come  before  the  church  to  relate  his  religious 
experience,  and  the  church  officers  all  expected  him. 
''Very  well,''  was  the  rejoinder,  "you  can  not  go. 
You  have  had  too  much  religion  all  \vinter,  and  it  is 
just  spoiling  you ;  and  I  may  as  well  put  a  stop  to  it 
now  as  at  any  time.     You  may  put  up  the  shutters 
and  stay  in  the  store."    "  I  am  sorry  to  disobey  you, 
sir,"  replied  James,  "  but  it  is  my  duty  to  go  to  the 
meeting,  and  I  shall  go."     "  You  can  go  then,"  said 
Mr.  Pattison;  "I  shall  not  want  you  any  longer." 
*'  Very  well,"  was  the  reply ;  but  after  a  moment  he 
asked:  "Shall  I  come  back  and  spend  the  night 
here  ?  "    "  Yes,  but  you  may  go  in  the  morning,  and 
I  will  find  some  one  in  your  place  who  is  less  full  of 
prayers  and  hymn-singing,  and  thinks  a  little  about 
business."     It   was   a   somewhat   dark    outlook   as 
James  turned  from  the  store,  after  committing  him- 
self in  trustful  love  to  the  Master,  who  would  not 
forsake  him,  and  asking  Him  to  soften  the  heart  of 
his  employer,  or  open  to  him  a  place  elsewhere.    To 
throw  himself  in  dependence  on  his  relatives,  who 
might,  perhaps,  censure  his  course,  was  scarcely  to 
be    thought   of.     He  went   to  the  meeting,  chiefly 
anxious  whether  the  church  would  receive  him,  and 
be  satisfied  that  he  loved  the  Savior.     The  question 
of  his  worldly  fortunes  sank  into  small  importance 


80 


JAMES  S.  DTCKERSON. 


CONVERSION". 


81 


!^ 


to  the  young  pilgrim  beside  the  question  of  his  ad- 
mission into  that  palace  Beautiful,  whose  inmates 
were  the  children  of  the  Great  King.  Smiles  and 
tears  have  alternated  with  each  other  as  he  has  told, 
with  all  his  touching  pathos,  the  story  of  this 
critical  event  of  his  life. 

But  one  so  true  to  his  Savior  could  not  be  deserted 
by  Him.  In  the  church  all  were  satisfied  as  to  the 
genuineness  of  his  religious  change,  while  stand- 
ing—  on  account  of  the  shortness  of  his  stature  — 
on  one  of  the  benches,  he  told  in  his  straightforward 
and  childlike  way  how  he  had  found  and  loved  the 
Savior,  and  longed  to  preach  His  gospel.  The  trem- 
bling with  which  he  waited  at  the^door  for  the  result 
of  the  discussion  on  his  case,  was  changed  to  ecstatic 
joy  as  he  received  the  announcement  that  his  ex- 
perience was  satisfactory,  and  that  through  baptism 
he  was  to  enter  the  portals  of  God's  earthly  house. 
The  baptism  that  followed  was  the  symbol  of  a 
genuine  profession  which  he  never  regretted,  never 
dishonored,  never  ceased  to  adorn. 

James  went  back  to  the  store  thanking  the  Lord 
for  His  goodness  in  turning  the  hearts  of  the  people 
towards  him,  and  trusting  that  a  path  would  be 
opened  before  him  in  the  morning.  When,  the 
next  day,  he  had  taken  down  the  shutters  and  put 
things  in  their  usual  order,  he  expected,  on  the 
entrance  of  Mr.  Pattison,  some  hard,  .unsympathiz- 
ing  words  and  a  hurried  good-bye.  But  something 
had  softened  the  merchant's  heart,  and  he  said:  ''I 
told  you  you  could  not  stay,  Jimraie ;  but,  as  you 
are  going  off  to  that  school  by-and-by,  you  may  as 


well  finish  your  time  with  me."  The  result  was  that 
he  remained  with  Mr.  Pattison  until  he  left  for 
Hamilton,  and  was  henceforth  treated  by  him 
with  more  consideration  and  kindness,  perhaps  from 
the  fact  that  he  himself  had  gone,  first  from  curiosity 
to  hear  Elder  Knapp,  and  afterward  had  become  an 
occasional  interested  listener. 

James'  mind  was  now  fixed  upon  the   ministry, 
although  his  wishes  were  as  yet  sanctioned  by  no 
formal   action   from   the   church.     He   studied  the 
Bible  at  all  spare  moments,  and  thought  out  sermons 
as  well  as  he  could,  which,  he  said,  ''  was  not  very 
well."     He  tried  his  hand  on  the  ''glorious"  text, 
''For  God  so  loved  the  world,"  etc.;  but,  unable  to 
discuss  and  amplify  it,  he  finally  said,  "  Well,  that 
is  the  whole  of  it;   God  did   love   the  world,  and 
proved  it  by  sending  his  Son,  and  I  don't  know  what 
more  can  be  said."     Still,  ^s  he  reflected  that  min- 
isters can  and  do  preach  from  the  text,  he  fell  into 
doubts  whether  Mr.  Pattison's  incredulity  as  to  his 
preaching  capacity  was  not  right  after  all.     He  did 
not  then  know  that  such  early  barrenness  is  a  very 
common  precursor  of  later  fertility.     Meantime,  he 
maintained  his  conviction  that  God  had  called  him 
to  preach,  and  cherished  a  secret  hope  that  the  way 
to  an  education  would  yet  be  opened  to  him.     To 
the  questions  of  his  Sabbath-school  teachers  and  his 
relatives  whether  he  felt  as  strongly  the  assurance 
of    his   call,   he   replied    confidently   that   he   did. 
Among  his  relatives,  many  of  them  not  religious, 
there  was  much  skepticism  regarding  his  fitness  to 
preach.    Some  scarcely  thought  the  Lord  would  caU 


82 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


i 


boys  who  had  no  money  to  pay  for  their  education  ; 
some  liad  the  common  notion  that  the  desire  to  go 
to  college  was  little  else  than  a  desire  to  escape 
work.  No  doubt,  his  smallness  of  stature 
favored  the  general  skepticism.  It  was  difficult  to 
believe  that  a  frame  so  slight  and  delicate  was 
united  with  a  caliber  that  would  be  adequate  to 
so  weighty  an  office.  When  asked  if  he  really  be- 
lieved that  he  was  going  to  be  '*'  a  smart  man,"  and 
what  were  his  reasons  for  the  belief,  he  scarcely 
knew  what  to  say.  He  did  not  consider  himself 
specially  gifted,  had  been  for  some  time  out  of 
school,  and  yet  would  frankly  confess  that  he 
thought  he  had  some  qualifications  for  the  minis- 
try, and  felt  assured  that  God  had  called  him  to  it. 
This  was  his  only  solid  standing -ground.  Nearly 
all  things  outward  conspired  to  dissuade  him  from 
his  purpose ;  some  thinking  his  health  not  strong 
enough  ;  many  having  no  confidence  in  his  "  boyish 
enthusiasm,"  and  few  giving  him  an  encouraging 
word.  His  grandmother  did  not  fully  concur  in  her 
views  witli  James;  she  deemed,  with  her  sons,  his 
undertaking  a  rash  one,  yet  her  excellent  sense 
and  Christian  feeling,  made  her  cautious  in  her 
opposition,  and  gave  great  weight  to  her  opinions. 
One  Sabbath  when  the  matter  was  discussed 
at  the  dinner-table,  she  said:  "We  must  not 
judge  harshly  of  James  and  his  enthusiasm  about 
preaching.  If  God  has  called  him.  He  will 
open  the  path  before  him  ;  and  he  may  do  more 
for  his  Master  as  a  plain  preacher  than  if  he 
became  a  wealthy  merchant.     Money  and  worldly 


CONVERSION. 


88 


success  are  not  all  that  is  worth  living  for ;  a  much 
higher  ambition  is  to  live  above  self,  for  the  world 
and  for  Christ."  After  this  the  opposition  to  him 
was  less  constant  and  bitter ;  and  his  uncles,  think- 
ing he  might  be  actuated  by  higher  motives  than 
they  had  credited  him  with,  looked  on  his  course 
with  greater  kindliness. 

In  relating  before  the  church  his  experience  at 
conversion,  James  had  distinctly  avowed  his  already 
kindled  desire  to  preach  the  gospel ;  and  even  then 
some  had  received  favorably  and  treasured  up  his 
words.     Another  formal  hearing  before  the  church, 
in  regard  to  his  desire  to  preach,  resulted  in  disarm- 
ing all  opposition,  and  securing  to  him  the  approval 
of  his  brethren  in  his  chosen  course,  while  all  felt 
moved  by  his  love  and  zeal  and  his  determined  man- 
ner as  he  declared   himself  ''bound  to  preach  the 
gospel."     He   went    now  joyfully   forward    in   his 
work,  while  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  begin   his 
studies.     From  many  friends  he  met  with  interest 
and   encouraging  words.     Miss  Sarah  Colgate,  an 
invalid  daughter  of  Deacon  William  Colgate,  whom 
multitudes  in  New  York  remember  for  her  many 
virtues  and  charities    (though  she  moved  only  as 
wheeled  about  in  her  chair,  and  being  lifted  to  and 
from  her  carriage  when  she  went  to  church),  and 
who   befriended    many  young   candidates    for  the 
ministry,  regarded  James  with  especial  interest,  and 
won  his  gratitude  by  many  acts  of  kindness  shown 
to  him  through  long  years.     This  year,  also,  he  re- 
ceived for  his  services  in  the  store  fifty  dollars  in 
money,  besides  his  board,  probably  the  first  money 


84 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


that  he  ever  earned.  From  this  sum  he  bought 
nearly  all  his  clothes,  and  gave  liberally  to  missions 
and  to  all  objects  for  which  collections  were  taken 
up  in  the  church  and  Sabbath-school.  He  also 
bought  at  a  second-hand  store  a  few  books  to  aid 
his  religious  studies.  With  their  help  he  sketched 
plans  of  sermons,  and  preached  them  in  the  cellar 
to  imaginary  audiences.  He  would  tell  an  amusing 
incident  of  one  of  these  preaching  services.  Having 
amplified  on  the  several  points  of  his  discourse,  and 
proceeding  with  great  animation  to  his  closing 
appeal,  looking  up  as  if  to  a  collection  of  uncon- 
verted young  people  in  the  galleries,  his  ear  caught 
a  smothered  titter,  and  then  a  roar  of  laughter,  from 
a  company  of  boys  in  an  adjoining  cellar.  The 
curtain  instantly  dropped  upon  the  scene,  and  the 
abashed  young  Demosthenes  vanished  through  the 
scuttle  with  magical  rapidity. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


James    now    made    his    preparations    to    go   to 
Madison  University,  the  Baptist  institution  for  liter- 
ary and  theological  culture,  at  Hamilton,  Madison 
County,  New  York,  to  pursue  his  studies  for  the 
mmistry.     From  the  estate  of  his  father  he  would 
receive    about    fifty   dollars   a   year,  which   would 
pay  for  his  board    (in  the  public   hall),  while   he 
hoped  to  earn  something,  as   many  students  did, 
towards  his  tuition,  clothing,  books,  and  other  neces- 
sary expenses.      Of  his  fifty  dollars  received  from 
Mr.  Pattison  he  had  little  left,  especially  as  Mr.  P 
took  several  dollars  from  the  sum  to  buy  new  panes 
of  glass,  to  replace  the  broken  ones  of  which  none 
of  the  clerks  knew  any  thing,  and  for  which  James, 
who  had  care  of  the  shutters,  was  held  responsible. 
At  their  parting,  however,  Mr.  Pattison  told  him 
that  he  had  been  very  serviceable  to  him,  that  they 
all  loved  him,  and  that,  if  he  did  not  like  study  as 
well  as  he  expected,  he  would  be  welcomed  back  to 
a  position  in  the  store. 

His  good-bye  to  Mrs.  Pattison,  when  it  came,  was 
much  more  pathetic.  The  -dear  old  soul,"  as  he 
used  to  call  her,  cried  and  sobbed,  telling  him  that 
she  loved  him  like  one  of  her  own   children,  and 


85 


86 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


praying  the  Lord  to  bless  and  prosper  him  in  all  his 
ways. 

Mr.  Pattison,  in  conversation  with  some  of  James' 
uncles,  had  told  them  that  he  perhaps  had  better 
go  ;  he  was  too  honest  to  become  a. successful  mer- 
chant, and  mighty  religious  as  he  was,  become  a  good 
preacher.  It  is  hard  for  the  uninitiated  mind  to 
conceive  a  man  thus  unblushingly  stigmatizing  both 
himself  and  his  profession.  James'  older  brother, 
Thomas,  who  had  been  converted  a  little  earlier 
than  himself,  though,  with  others,  he  doubted  the 
wisdom  of  James'  course,  yet,  unwilling  to  deter 
him  from  what  he  deemed  his  duty,  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing letter  to  Mr.  J.  Edmunds,  then  financial  agent 
of  Madison  University : 

New  York,  August  27,  1842. 

Dear  Brother  Edmunds  :  When  you  were  in  the 
city  last,  I  had  some  conversation  with  you  in  reference 
to  my  brother  James'  entering  upon  a  course  of  studies 
at  Hamilton.  His  engagement  with  his  present  em- 
ployer being  nearly  terminated",  I  am  led  now  to  write 
you  on  the  subject.  I  believe  I  informed  you  that  he 
had  about  nine  hundred  dollars  in  property,  and  at 
interest,  which  bring  him  in  yearly  about  fifty  dollars. 
He  feels  willing  to  spend  all  he  has,  if  need  be,  when  it 
comes  into  his  possession,  so  as  to  gain  an  education. 
What  course  had  he  better  pursue  ?  He  will,  no  doubt, 
come  recommended  by  the  Baptist  Tabernacle  Church, 
as  they  have  had  his  case  in  hand.  Any  information 
communicated  from  you  will  be  thankfully  received. 

Yours  very  respectfully, 

Thomas  Stokes  Dickerson. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON.  37 

Some  weeks  after,  Mr.  Thomas  Dickerson  received 
the  following  reply : 

Hamilton,  September  21,  1842. 
Dear  Brother  Dickerson  :     I  have   just  returned 
from  the  West,  and  found  yours  of  August  'ZUh  on  my 
table.     I  can  only  speak  as  au  individual  member  of  the 
board  of  managers,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  if  your 
brother  comes  on  and  can  pay  his  board  bills,  which  will 
amount  to  but  fifty  dollars  a  year,  he  will  be  waited  on 
for  his  tuition.    We  must  be  personally  acquainted  with 
him,  however,  before  we  can  pledge  ourselves  to  any 
thing.     My  advice,  then,  is,  if  he  is  determined  on  pre- 
paring for  the  ministry,  and  the  church  approve  of  it 
that  he  muster  twenty-five  dollars  to  pay  the  expenses' 
of  the  first  term,  and  come  on  and  test  his  mind  to  see 
If  he  can  study.      That  decided  in  the  affirmative,  he 
will  find  a  way  peaceably,  or  make  one  forcibly. 

Yours  sincerely, 

J.  Edmunds. 
A   certain   amount  of   money   was   then  raised, 
James'  clothes  were  put  in  order,  and  he  was  ready 
to  start.     If  it  seems  strange  that  his  friends  stood 
somewhat  aloof  from  his  plans,  we  must  remember 
that,  some  time  having  elapsed  since  he  had  been  at 
school.  It  was  liy  no  means  certain  that  he  would  be 
successful  in  his  study  at   Hamilton,  and  still  less 
certain    that   he   would  ultimately  be   a   successful 
preacher ;  that  to  his  uncles,  practical  business  men, 
not  allied  with  him  in  denominational  sympathy,  his 
quitting  the  sure  path  of  business  for  a  doubtful  and 
difficult  course,  leading  to  a  doubtful  issue,  seemed 
rash  and  unwise :  and  we  can  not  wonder  that  they 


m 


38 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


II 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


89 


endeavored  to  dissuade  him  from  his  purpose,  and 
gave  him  the  alternative  of  being  aided  by  them  in 
entering  on  a  mercantile  career,  or  struggling  as  best 
he  might  in  his  pursuit  of  an  education.  They  did 
not,  and  could  not,  know  the  moral  pluck  or  the 
mental  caliber  of  the  youth,  and  few,  in  his  genial, 
sunny,  boyish  manner,  could  read  or  divine  the  real 
strength  and  manliness  of  his  soul.  But  persist  he 
would  and  did.  With  his  hand  in  his  Heavenly 
Father's,  he  entered  on  the  path  that  lay  in  cloud 
before  him,  and  never  faltered.  A  slight  but  char- 
acteristic incident  attended  his  setting  out.  His 
valise  was  packed  with  his  extra  suit  of  clothes,  and 
his  railway  ticket  bought  for  Hamilton.  With  one 
bill  in  his  purse,  which  was  to  pay  for  some  books 
when  he  reached  his  destination,  and  which  he  did 
not  like  to  break,  and  having  no  change  to  pay  for 
getting  his  trunk  to  the  boat,  he  went  into  the 
street,  shoveled  in  a  load  of  potatoes  for  some  one, 
and  used  the  quarter  of  a  dollar  which  he  received 
in  getting  the  requisite  conveyance  for  his  little 
baggage.  So  narrow  was  the  margin  of  his  pecuniary 
resources:  but  trusting  in  the  Heavenly  guidance, 
with  the  double  buoyancy  of  youthful  and  Christian 
hope,  he  set   forth   with   no   misgivings   as   to   his 

future. 

When  he  reached  the  beautiful  village,  and  went 
up  the  hill  to  the  buildings  where  in  after  years  he 
spent  so  many  happy  hours,  his  heart  swelled  with 
joy  and  gratitude.  The  autumnal  season  is  especially 
beautiful  in  Hamilton.  The  landscape  lay  in  the 
mild  and  delicious  beauty  of  early  Autumn.     The 


hills  that  girdled  the  sleeping  valley,  with  their 
foliage  just  tinged  by  the  September  frosts,  and  the 
cool,  fresh,  invigorating  air,  seemed  like  inspiration. 
During  his  whole  life,  as  each  succeeding  Autumn 
returned,  it  sent  his  memory  back  to  those  bright 
fall  days  at  Hamilton.  The  companion  of  his  jour- 
ney was  John  Colgate ;  and  James  went  to  his  room 
with  a  heart  beating  high  with  glad  hopes  of  the 
future,  yet  trembling  lest  he  should  fail  of  the  de- 
sired success  in  his  studies.  He  laid  down  his  valise, 
and,  kneeling,  thanked  the  Lord  for  bringing  him  in 
safety  to  the  place  so  long  and  -eagerly  anticipated, 
and  implored  His  help  and  guidance  in  all  the  work 
before  him.  He  was  seventeen  years  of  age,  but 
looked  much  younger.  John  Colgate  was  his  only 
acquaintance,  and  amidst  the  throng  of  students  he 
felt  a  stranger  among  strangers.  Still,  whatever  his 
surroundings,  his  heart  was  in  the  sunshine.  Amidst 
the  darkest  troubles  he  was  at  once  grateful  and 
hopeful.  He  was  sensitively  alive  to  every  allevia- 
tion of  the  present,  and  caught  with  youthful  faith 
every  promise  of  the  future.  And  especially  the 
more  he  was  beset  with  outward  trials,  the  more 
constantly  did  he  betake  himself  to  the  Ona  Sure 
Friend  and  Helper,  and,  rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  en- 
counter cheerfully  the  perplexities  which  were 
thrown  across  his  pathway.  He  whistled  and  sang 
as,  in  the  morning,  he  unpacked  his  valise,  and  went 
for  his  list  of  books  and  instruction  as  to  his  duties. 
Among  the  lessons  assigned  to  him  was  one  in  the 
Introduction  to  the  Latin  Grammar.'  Opening  the 
book,  he  began  to  commit  to  memory  the  first  page. 


40 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


41 


It  was  hard,  slow  work.  His  mind,  so  long  unac- 
customed to  study,  could  not  easily  get  back  into 
the  old  track.  After  trying  unsuccessfully  to  com- 
mit to  memory  the  two  first  pages,  he  closed  the 
book  in  discouragement,  and  condemned  himself  for 
having,  dunce  as  he  was,  dreamed  of  qualifying  him- 
self for  the  ministry.  But  he  returned  to  the  attack, 
and  when,  going  the  next  morning  with  trembling 
to  his  class,  he  found  that  he  had  his  lesson  better 
than  any  other  member  of  it,  he  felt  a  glad  revival 
of  his  courage.  His  experience  mirrors  a  thousand 
others'  experiences  both  in  its  despondency  and  its 
joy.     The  following  is  his  first  letter  to  his  brother 

in  New  York : 

Hamilton,  October  13,  1842. 

Deak  Brother  :  According  to  promise,  I  embrace 
the  first  opportunity  of  informing  you  of  my  safe  arrival 
at  the  Institution  on  Tuesday  night  at  half-past  eleven, 
P.M.  John  Colgate  and  I  tumbled  into  bed  about  mid- 
night, and  did  not  get  out  again  until  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  when  we  immediately  began  the  process 
of  fixing  our  room,  which,  by-the-by,  takes  in  a  very 
extensive  amount  of  sweeping,  dusting,  rubbing,  and 
washing.  We  were  glad  enough  when  the  merry  bell 
of  the  Institution  rang  out  its  call  to  breakfast.  When 
I  arrived  at  the  Hall  (which  is  the  name  given  to  the 
dining-room),  I  found  some  hundred^  students  eating 
away,  as  papa  used  to  say,  as  though  they  had  holes  in 
their  heads.  To  look  at  them,  you  would  take  them  for 
a  rollicking  set  of  customers ;  but  I  tell  you  there  are 
hearts  among  them  beating  high  with  love  to  God  and 
to  their  fellow  men.  After,  breakfast  we  resumed  our 
work,  and  by  night  had  our  room  looking  Uke  a  palace. 


Last  evening  we  went  to  the  village  of  Hamilton,  and 
bought  a  broom,  oil,  and  a  few  small  articles,  after  which 
we  went  into  the  prayer-meeting.  After  the  meeting, 
we  went  up  the  hill,  had  worship  in  our  own  room,  and 
retired.  This  morning,  for  the  first  time,  we  assembled 
in  the  chapel.  Professor  Maginnis  read  the  Bible  and  a 
hymn,  and  Dr.  Nathaniel  Kendrick  offered  prayer,  and 
aiterwards  made  a  short  speech  to  us.  The  lessons  for 
the  different  classes  were  then  given  out,  and  we  were 
dismissed.  To-morrow  I  have  a  recitation  at  half-past 
six,  A.M.  John  and  myself  have  adopted  four  o'clock  as 
our  hour  for  rising,  and  the  alarm  clock  has  been  let  into 
the  secret,  and  performs  his  part  admirably. 

Then  he  gives  an  account  of  his  expenses,  tells 
his  brother  the  titles  of  the  books  he  shall  need, 
being  able  to  purchase  most  of  them  at  second-hand, 
"  all  in  good  order,  neatly  covered  with  black  cam- 
bric." Then  he  says :  "  I  shall  be  compelled  to  buy 
a  standing-desk,  which  will  cost  me  from  two  to 
three  dollars,  as  the  older  students  advise  me  to  have 
one  as  necessary  to  my  health."     He  adds : 

Please  put  in  that  guard-chain  which  is  in  that  little 
heart-box,  as  I  want  something  to  put  keys  upon;  and 
think  of  those  drawers,  and  a  flannel  shirt,  and  that  large 
overcoat  which  1  forgot ;  and  I  shall  want  a  pair  of 
thick,  heavy  boots  for  Winter.  I  am  well,  contented, 
and  happy;  but  I  feel  there  is  more  need  of  prayer  now 
than  before.  When  the  boat  pushed  off  from  New 
York,  I  could  not  help  offering  up  an  inward  prayer  to 
God,  for  helping  me  through  so  many  difficulties ;  and 
when  for  the  first  time  I  entered  the  walls  of  the  Insti- 
tution, my  heart  found  its  way  to  the  Author  of  all  good. 
Now,  my  brother,  I  know  you  have  a  great  interest  in 


42 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


my  welfare  ;  but  do  I  have  your  prayers?  I  hope  so. 
Give  my  love  to  all  my  friends,  and  thank  those  who 
helped  me  to  arrange  my  affairs  in  getting  off.  Give 
my  love  to  Grace  and  John  and  all  the  rest  of  the  rela- 
tives. Let  me  hear  soon  about  those  books;  and  pray 
for  Your  brother, 

James  Stokes  Dickerson. 

With  his  rapidly  enlarging  acquaintance  ''little 
Jimmie  Dick,"  as  he  was  dubbed  by  the  boys,  became 
a  universal  favorite  —  a  good  singer,  a  capital  mimic, 
full  of  fun  and  frolic,  yet  never  indulging  in  person- 
alities or  coarseness.  His  appearance  was  that  of  a 
perfect  gentleman.  His  neat,  trim  figure,  clustering 
hair,  bright,  sparkling  eye,  joyous  expression,  and 
genial  manner,  were  constantly  remarked  and  com- 
mented on.  A  new  life  was  opened  to  hira.  To  be 
with  congenial  young  men,  pursuing  the  same 
studies,  and  many  having  the  same  hope  and  pur- 
pose with  him  of  preaching  the  gospel,  was  a  per- 
petual joy.  His  round  of  college  duty,  and  his  round 
of  religious  duty,  were  alike  delightful,  and  dis- 
charged with  equal  fidelity.  His  class  studies  were 
prosecuted  with  ease  and  success,  while  the  meetings 
for  prayer,  both  in  the  college  and  in  the  town,  were 
faithfully  attended,  and  his  old  vocation  of  Sabbath- 
school  teacher  was  speedily  resumed.  And  Hamil- 
ton itself,  in  its  quiet,  its  seclusion,  its  picturesque 
beauty,  furnishing  a  delightful  contrast  to  the  din 
and  turbulence  of  the  great  city,  in  the  heart  of 
which  he  had  been  living,  seemed  almost  to  lap  him 
in  an  earthly  Paradise,  and  spread  before  him  "a 
perpetual    feast   of    nectared    sweets."     He    loved 


RESIDENCE  AT    HAMILTON. 


43 


Nature,  as  a  nature  like  his  must,  with  an  unweary- 
ing affection  ;  and  he  often  carried  his  books  into 
the  charming  groves  near  by,  or  wandered  alone,  or 
in  congenial  and  glad  companionship,  over  the  pic- 
turesque hill-sides  of  that  lovely  spot,  and  feasted 
eye  and  heart  on  the  scenes  of  varied  beauty  which 
were  everywhere  spread  before  him.  Meantime,  if 
his  voice  was  the  merriest,  his  laugh  the  heartiest, 
his  speech  the  wittiest,  his  stories  the  drollest,  and 
his  fun  the  most  rollicking  in  all  the  joyous  circle, 
none  but  the  veriest  ascetics  and  bigots  of  devotion 
ever  felt  any  painful  or  even  uncongenial  contrast 
with  the  unaffected  piety  which  was  quick  to  dis- 
play itself  in  seasons  of  devotion.  Undoubtedly, 
very  strongly  contrasted  qualities  formed  in  him  a 
rare  and  extraordinary  union.  His  delicate  and 
sensitive  nature  responded  with  instant  thrill,  like 
an  ^olian  harp,  to  every  varying  breath  of  impulse 
and  influence,  so  that  transitions  which  are  difficult 
and  unnatural  in  most  men  were  easy  and  natural  in 
him.  He  joined  the  Adelphian  Society,  one  of  the 
literary  fraternities  of  the  Institution,  became  one 
of  its  active  members,  a  frequent  writer  of  sparkling 
pieces,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  for  its  paper,  and  in 
time  one  of  its  best  presiding  officers  and  leaders. 

As  to  his  finances,  it  is  scarcely  justice  to  him  not 
to  make  a  few  characteristic  statements.  He  went 
into  debt  somewhat  during  his  first  year,  and  felt 
much  perplexity  as  to  how  he  should  meet  the 
expenses  of  the  next.  He  had  practiced  the  most 
rigid  economy,  and  done  all  in  his  power  to  earn 
money  for  his  incidental  expenses.     He  took  all  the 


44 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


45 


I 


care  of  the  rooms,  study  and  bedroom,  which  he  and 
his  room-mate  occupied,  and  sawed,  split,  and  carried 
in  all  the  wood  for  their  fire.  He  did  the  same,  also, 
for  other  students,  receiving  for  it  a  small  weekly 
compensation.  His  books  he  kept  so  nicely  that, 
when  he  had  done  with  them,  he  could  sell  them  to 
those  in  the  lower  classes  for  two-thirds  of  the 
price,  and  use  the  avails  in  purchasing  needed  new 
ones.  The  ladies  of  the  Tabernacle  Church  sent 
boxes  of  clothing  annually  for  Hamilton  students, 
especially  through  the  efficient  influence  of  Mrs. 
William  Colgate  and  her  daughter  Sarah.  In  these 
boxes  there  was  often  a  package  for  James,  and  for 
these,  and  many  more  especial  and  sometimes  costly 
kindnesses,  they  earned  his  life-long  gratitude. 
It  can  scarcely  be  amiss  here  to  insert  a  brief  notice 
of  these  excellent  women,  extracted  from  Dr.  (jeo. 
W.  Eaton's  "  Historical  Discourses ''  on  "  Devoted 
Women,"  published  in  the  Jubilee  Volume  of 
Madison  University. 

*'  I  can  not  refrain  from  naming  in  this  connection 
Mrs.  Deacon  Colgate.  She,  like  her  husband,  took 
the  institution  into  her  heart,  and  was  in  labors 
abundant,  to  supply  its  wants  and  the  necessities  of 
the  students.  She  was  evermore  busying  herself 
about  the  Hamilton  Institution,  gathering  funds, 
endowing  scholarships,  furnishing  rooms,  and  in 
other  ways  contributing  efficiently  for  its  benefit. 
The  Female  Society  in  the  city  of  New  York,  aux- 
iliary to  the  Education  Society,  was  for  years,  through 
her  agency  and  that  of  others,  a  bountiful  source  of 
help  to  the  Institution.     Simple  justice  to  the  facts 


of  history  require,  along  with  the  mention  of  the 
mother's  name,  that  of  her  daughter  Sarah,  who  was, 
in  full  sympathy  and  kindred  work,  a  true  yoke- 
fellow with  the  indefatigable  mother,  and  when  the 
latter's  illness  laid  her  aside,  went  on  bravely  with 
work  for  Hamilton.  She  was  a  remarkable  instance 
in  which  physical  infirmity,  that  would  have  seemed 
to  justify  an  entire  cessation  from  bodily  labor,  was 
not  allowed  to  interfere  with  ceaseless  activities  for 
the  advancement  of  benevolent  objects  in  the  family, 
church,  and  society.  In  all  these  she  was  a  '  burning 
and  a  shining  light.'  So  deep  was  her  interest  in 
the  Institution,  that  she  came  to  visit  it,  to  attend 
its  exercises,  and  inspect  its  rooms  and  general 
condition  for  herself,  notwithstanding  the  peculiar 
inconveniences  to  her  of  travel.  She  was  greatly 
endeared  to  many  of  the  students  who  had  enjoyed 
her  counsel  and  encouragement  and  good  offices  in 
her  father's  house.  She  richly  deserves  special 
mention  among  the  sisters  who  effectually  served 
the  cause  of  ministerial  education  at  Hamilton." 

But  even  with  such  aids,  James'  finances  were 
often  of  the  narrowest.  An  occasional  present  of  a 
few  dollars  from  friends  or  relatives,  supplied  some 
pressing  wants,  but  the  times  were  not  few  when, 
while  the  wants  kept  on,  the  money  utterly  fell 
short.  On  one  occasion  he  was  surprised  to  find  at 
the  postoffice  a  letter  from  an  unconjecturable 
source,  charged  with  a  postage  of  eighteen  pence, 
precisely  the  entire  amount  of  his  pecuniary  store. 
It  was  hard  to  meet  so  enticing  a  friend  (letters 
were   rare   luxuries   with    him    then)   in   such   an 


46 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


47 


if  11 


unwonted  spot.      It  was  very  hard  to  deprive  his 
pocket  of  its  last  jingle  of  coin,  and  he  hesitated 
much    between  the   pleasure  he  coveted,  and    the 
price  he  had  got  to  pay  for  it.     The  social  element 
conquered,  as  with  him  it  infallibly  would.      The 
letter  was  paid  for,  opened,  and   displayed  to  his 
rewarded   and    wondering   vision    what   made   him 
richer  than  Croesus,  at  least  richer  than  ten  times 
the  sum  would  have   done  in  later   years  —  a  five 
dollar  note.     His  fancy  swam  with  the  thought  of 
the  luxuries  this  sum  was  going  to  bring  him.     His 
worn  coat  re-tailored,  his  winter   boots  re-soled,  a 
new  neck-tie  to  make  himself  presentable  in  church ; 
a  hundred  little  things  —  in  short,  if  the  well-to-do 
people  knew  how  often  the  five  dollars  which  they 
don't   know  what  to  do  with  would   clear  up  the 
whole  dark  horizon  of  some  struggling  child  of  want 
and  worth,  how  often  would  the  charity  be  forth- 
coming which  is  now  thoughtlessly  withheld  !     To 
cite  an  instance  in  point,  from  the  experience  of  our 
youthful  student.     When  he  was  in  New  York  on 
vacation,  the  though tfulness  of  Miss  Sarah  Colgate, 
in  asking  him  about  his  teeth  (which  displayed  no 
external  defect),  and  sending  him  to  the  dentist  to 
incur  at  her  expense  a  large  bill,  secured  to  him 
perfect  soundness  in  these  essential  organs  almost  to 
the  end  of   his  life.      In  the  above  case,  the  only 
words  accompanying  the  note  were, ''  From  one  who 
feels  a  great  interest  in  you."     Who  was  the  donor 
he  never  knew.     The  cup  of  cold  water,  given  in 
secret,  will  yet  have  its  open  reward. 

James  had  sometimes  from  his  New  York  friends, 


as  will  be  seen  later,  lessons  on  economy  which 
seemed  rather  superfluous,  and  might  remind  one  of 
the  reply  of  young  Sheridan  to  his  father,  when  he 
threatened  to  cut  him  off  with  a  shilling:  "Yes, 
father,  but  where  is  the  shilling  to  come  from?" 
So  when  tantalized  (not  to  say,  tauntalized)  with 
the  exhortation  to  practice  economy,  he  might  be 
tempted  to  retort,  "  Yes,  but  where  is  the  economy 
to  come  from  ?  " 

It  is,  perhaps,  proper  to  add  to  these  financial 
details  some  account  of  the  shifts  he  was  driven  to 
in  regard  to  his  wardrobe.     If  the  features  it  pre- 
sents lack  somewhat  in  dignity,  they  will  conduce 
at   least   to   the    truthfulness   of    our    portraiture. 
During  the  six  years  of  his  college  life  he  never  had 
a  new  suit  of  clothes,  until  just  before  his  gradu- 
ation.    Beside    the   occasional   parcels   in   the    box 
from  the  Tabernacle,  his  uncles  not   unfrequently 
gave    him    their   partly  worn  garments,  in   which, 
being  well  made  and  of  good  material,  he  generally 
contrived  to  appear  respectably  dressed.     He  some- 
times  laughed   with   them   subsequently,  over  the 
expedients  to  which   he    resorted  in  adjusting   his 
transferred  habiliments.      One  of  his  uncles  being 
rather   tall,   and   the  other   quite   short,  he  would 
unite   the    long   vest  of    the   one    with    the   short 
trowsers  of  the  other,  and  vice  versa,  and,  with  the 
aid  of  India  rubber    suspenders,    haul   up   or  pull 
down,  as  the  case  required.     At  one  time,  receiving 
a  handsome    coat  with  very  long  sleeves,  lined  with 
quilted  brown  silk,  he  at  first  purposed  to  get  the 
sleeves  shortened    at    the  tailor's,   but   afterwards 


48 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


decided  to  turn  the  quilted  silk  back,  let  it  look 
like  a  handsome  cuff,  and  quietly  pass  it  off  as  the 
latest  New  York  style  —  which  he  did.  The  decep- 
tion, if  there  was  any,  was  in  the  act.  At  one  time, 
for  several  months,  he  wore  his  room-mate's  every- 
day suit  on  Sunday,  and  was  thankful  for  the  privi- 
lege. All  this  may  well  be  supposed  any  thing  but 
grateful  to  the  flesh  of  a  young  man,  sensitive, 
gentlemanly,  social  in  tastes  and  habits,  a  favorite 
in  the  best  classes.  Yet  he  submitted  to  it  without 
repining  for  his  Master's  sake,  received  every  kind- 
ness with  tenderest  gratitude,  and  yet,  while  thus 
humble  with  a  Christian's  humility,  he  never  dis- 
paraged himself  or  compromised  his  dignity,  or 
failed  to  appear  the  polished  gentleman  that  he 
intrinsically  was. 

One  more  point  may  be  mentioned  here :  With 
his  slender  frame  his  stomach  was  delicate  and 
fastidious,  and  boarding  at  a  public  table  (whose 
cost  was  but  a  dollar  a  week),  it  may  be  supposed 
that  he  often  sat  down  to  unpalatable  meals,  from 
which  he  as  often  rose  hungry  (or  worse).  He 
thus  laid  the  foundations  of  a  dyspepsia  which  fol- 
lowed him  through  many  years,  and  to  which  not 
improbably  the  local  difficulties  that  for  years  kept 
him  out  of  the  ministry,  might  be  largely  traced. 
James'  trials  in  regard  to  food  had  indeed  com- 
menced earlier ;  but  for  that  there  was  no  public 
responsibility.  It  would  not  be  beneath  the  man- 
agers of  a  public  boarding-house  for  students  to  see 
to  it  that  the  supplies  are  nutritious,  healthful,  well 
cooked,  and  abundant.     Both  the  physical  and  the 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


49 


mental  nourishment  go,  in  nearly  equal  proportions, 
to  the  forming  of  the  future  thinker  and  actor  in 
the  world's  affairs. 

In  entering  on  his  educational  course,  James  had 
to  commence  at  the  bottom.  He  spent  two  years  in 
the  preparatory  department,  and  then  passed  through 
^he  regular  four  years'  collegiate  course.  He  entered 
in  the  Fall  of  1842,  and  was  graduated  in  1848,  with 
the  highest  honors  of  his  class,  the  valedictory 
oration  being  assigned  to  him  by  the  Faculty,  but 
declined  by  him  when  he  found  that  it  was  going  to 
provoke  ill  feeling  among  some  members  of  the  class. 
His  theological  studies  would  have  occupied  two 
years  longer,  and  in  fact  he  returned  and  spent  part 
of  the  year  1848-9  in  them,  but  an  affection  of  the 
throat,  which  seized  him  before  he  left  college,  now 
became  so  severe  as  to  compel  him  to  abandon  all 
hope  of  preaching,  and  with  this  to  abandon  also 
his  further  course  of  theological  study.  His  college 
studies,  amidst  all  the  drawbacks  we  have  referred 
to,  were  pursued  with  uniform  delight  and  success. 
His  vacations  were  spent  in  New  York,  among  his 
friends,  who  alwa}- s  cordially  welcomed  him  to  their 
homes  and  hospitalities.  One  of  his  vacations  he 
spent  in  the  office  of  his  brother  Thomas,  who  was 
absent  in  Philadelphia  visiting  their  newly  married 
sister,  Mrs.  Van  Dusen.  James  had  been  also 
invited,  but  he  preferred  to  forego  his  own  enjoy- 
ments in  favor  of  his  brother  Thomas,  and  during  a 
long  and  hot  summer  he  attended  faithfully  to  his 
business  while  he  enjoyed  himself  in  the  city  of 
*' Brotherly  Love."     The   brotherly  love  of  James 


i 


60 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


cheerfully  submitted  to  the  sacrifice,  especially  in 
view  of  the  many  kindnesses  which  his  brother  had 
rendered  to  him. 

But  few  of  James'  letters  are  preserved,  especially 
of  the  later  portion  of  his  college  residence.  From 
such  earlier  ones  as  we  have  we  take  a  few  extracts 
(chiefly  of  1843).  They  will  shed  light  upon,  and 
receive  light  from,  the  preceding  details.  His 
brother  Thomas,  we  may  premise,  being  considerably 
older  than  himself,  thought  it  sometimes  his  province 
to  give  the  younger  scion  of  the  house  some  needed 
advice,  over  which  they  both  made  themselves  merry 
in  later  years.  In  replying  to  James'  first  letter,  of 
Oct.  22,  1842,  he  says: 

*  *  *  *  "I  hope  our  correspondence  may  be  a 
continued  one,  and  prove  for  mutual  improvement  and 
edification.  I  am  not  fond  of  writing  for  the  sake  of 
writing,  and  fiHing  up  a  sheet  with  gossip  of  the  day,  or 
such  news  as  in  itself  is  of  no  value.  Mine  to  you  shall 
be  a  series  of  letters  of  advice,  by  which  I  hope  to  pro- 
duce some  good  in  the  mind  of  the  reader.  My  letters 
will  be  regularly  numbered,  and  the  next,  No.  2,  will 
soon  be  sent." 

Then  he  gives  some  general  advice  in  regard  to 
the  purchase  of  books,  and  adds : 

You  speak  of  a  standing  desk.  I  have  thought  con- 
siderably about  it,  and  am  inclined  to  think  it  an  article 
you  had  better  not  get.  You  say  you  can  purchase  it 
for  three  dollars,  which  I  allow  is  very  cheap,  but  I  think 
I  could  have  a  shelf  made  of  a  proper  height,  to  study 
by,  which  would  not  cost  me  one  dollar.  I  am  the  last 
person  to  refuse  you  any  amount  you  may  need,  but  I 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


51 


want  you  to  commence  right.  1  want  to  impress  upon 
your  mind  the  necessity  of  practicing  the  most  rigid 
economy  in  your  situation;  of  getting  only  what  is 
absolutely  necessary.  Recollect  that  seventeen  standing 
desks  will  more  than  2y(iy  your  hoard.  *  *  *  I  shall 
think  of  you  often.  Many  eyes  will  be  upon  you. 
Apply  yourself  closely  to  study.  Live  near  to  God  in 
prayer,  and  may  success  attend  your  path. 

Your  brother, 

T.  Stokes  Dickerson. 

The  reply  to  this  letter,  dated  November  7, 1842, 
is  the  only  other  letter  we  have  of  this  year,  from 
which  we  quote  a  few  sentences  : 

*  *  *  I  was  much  pleased  with  your  intended  plan 
of  writing  me  a  series  of  letters,  and  I  hope  with  you 
that  they  may  prove  beneficial  to  us  both  ;  but,  I  do 
hope  they  may  contain  some  profitable  7ieics,  as  well  as 
advice  and  counsel.  I  think  I  have  great  cause  to  be 
thankful  to  the  Giver  of  all  good,  for  kind  relatives  and 
friends,  who  are  always  ready  to  impart  good  advice. 
As  for  my  feelings  I  can  say  I  am  happy  and  content. 
I  enjoy  pretty  good  health  and  spirits,  and  as  for  the  last  I 
sometimes  think  they  run  almost  too  high;  but  I  hope  that 
when  I  get  well  settled  I  shall  be  more  sober  and  watch- 
ful. *  *  *  The  suit  of  clothes  that  Uncle  C.  sent, 
fits  me  nicely.  I  shall  soon  need  my  winter  boots,  and 
if  you  have  an  old  pair  of  slippers  you  do  not  use,  I  could 
find  use  for  them.  As  regards  the  standing  desk,  you 
must  exercise  your  own  judgment  about  it  ;  but  I  feel 
the  need  of  something  of  that  kind  every  day.  1  have 
but  little  spare  time.  I  rise  at  four  o'clock,  and  retire 
at  nine  o'clock,  have  a  recitation  about  daylight.  I  want 
some  good  steel  pens  and  letter  paper,  which  you  can 


52 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


53 


1 1 


put  in  with  the  other  things  when  you  send  them,  for  I 
must  soon  write  to  some  of  my  uncles,  Grace,  John,  grand- 
ma and  aunties.  I  do  not  know  where  to  commence. 
Give  my  love  to  them  all  ;  tell  them  to  write  ;  it  does 
not  take  me  as  long  to  read  a  letter  as  to  write  one. 
*  *  *  What  shall  I  tell  the  faculty  in  relation  to  my 
means?  Remember  me  continually  at  the  throne  of 
grace,  that  I  may  be  devoted  to  the  service  of  my  Mas- 
ter, and  that  I  may  walk  humbly  and  close  with  God. 
Your  affectionate  brother,  James. 

January  25,  1843. 
Dear  Brother  Thomas:  As  a  favorable  opportunity 
presents  itself,  I  embrace  it  in  addressing  a  letter  to  my 
brother.  Day  after  day  T  have  asked  the  post-master, 
Is  there  not  a  letter  for  me?  but  have  received  a  dis- 
couraging reply.  The  answer  of  my  letter  to  Grace 
which  I  expected  to  receive  immediately,  has  not  arrived; 
and  the  letters  of  "  advice  "  promised  by  you,  and  joy- 
fully anticipated  by  me,  have  not  as  yet  reached  me. 
But  this  is  enough  repining;  I  shall  yet  hope  to  see  you 
a  man  of  letters.  I  get  along  very  well  as  regards  my 
studies,  the  Greek  text  is  rather  difficult,  but  the  remain- 
der of  my  studies  comparatively  easy.  But  "  one  thing 
is  needful,"  for  which  I  long  and  pray  daily,  a  closer 
walk  and  communion  with  Jesus.  I  realize  that  how- 
ever my  mind  may  be  stored  with  useful  knowledge,  if 
I  have  not  genuine  piety  and  ardent  love  to  God  and 
my  fellow  men,  "  it  profiteth  me  nothing."  The  revival 
which  has  been  in  progress  in  the  village  for  some  time 
past,  has  revived  in  my  soul  the  wish  to  be  engaged  in 
the  labor  of  the  gospel  ministry.  I  now  feel  a  greater 
desire  than  ever  before  to  share  in  the  work  of  the 
world's  conversion.     I  have  attended  a  number  of  meet- 


ings at  the  village,  some  of  which  have  been  very  inter- 
esting. About  thirty  have  been  converted,  backsliders 
have  been  reclaimed,  Christians  awakened,  pastor 
aroused  and  encouraged,  all  moving  on  in  harmony  and 
success,  and  the  Lord  is  still  working  among  them.  I 
have  but  little  care  on  my  mind  now,  but  oh,  my  lean- 
ness in  the  sight  of  the  Lord!  Pray  for  us  (John  Col- 
gate and  myself)  that  we  may  grow  in  grace,  and  that 
our  attainments  may  be  greater  and  higher. 

I  am  very  thankful  for  those  shirts,  drawers,  etc.,  you 
sent  me  by  Joseph,  and  the  twelve  dollars  in  cash.  The 
shirts  were  plenty  large.  I  have  purchased  a  pair  of 
thick,  heavy  boots,  and  a  history;  paid  my  taxes  and  a 
number  of  incidental  expenses,  and  have  four  dollars 
remaining.  I  have  not  mentioned  a  small  desk  that  I 
have  bought.  It  is  about  two  feet  high,  and  placed 
upon  my  table  answers  for  a  standing  desk.  It  cost  me 
one  dollar.  I  have  been  at  Elder  Knapp's  several 
times  ;  was  there  the  evening  previous  to  his  starting 
for  Washington.  *  *  *  Give  my  best  love  to  Uncle 
James,  Aunt  C,  and  family.  I  desire  very  much  to 
receive  a  letter  from  them.  Also  my  love  to  grandma, 
my  other  uncles  and  cousins,  and  friends  in  the  city. 
Give  my  love  to  Grace  and  John.  Tell  John  he  must 
write  me  a  good  long  letter.  (Since  commencing  this 
I  have  received  one  from  Grace,  dated  Philadelphia.) 
I  hope  in  your  next  you  will  give  me  some  account  of 
the  transactions  at  the  Tabernacle,  and  how  thino-s  are 
proceeding  at  the  new  church.  And  tell  me  how  you 
^"joy  yourself  and  what  are  your  prospects  in  regard  to 
mercantile  life.  Fill  a  good,  large  sheet  foolscap^  with 
anything  profitable  that  will  tend  to  awaken  my  mind. 
After  a  long  three  months  of  study,  a  little  wearied 
with  the  monotony  of  college   life,  to  receive  a  letter 


64 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


66 


t 


from  home^  filled  with  news,  seasoned  with  good  advice, 
what  a  treat!  *  *  *  I  need  nothing  just  now  but  a 
few  handkerchiefs,  which  I  can  do  without  until  the 
Spring  vacation,  which  is  about  ten  weeks  distant,  and 
if  I  do  not  go  to  the  city,  the  others  can  bring  them  up 
with  them.  Professor  Conant  arrived  here  safely.  The 
buildintrs  on  the  north  and  west  side  were  illuminated, 
as  he  arrived  at  ten  p.  m.;  a  committee  was  appointed  to 
brinjr  him  from  the  village.  He  came  in  a  large  sleigh, 
accompanied  by  Professor  Eaton.  The  students  formed 
one  long  procession  to  receive  him,  many  of  them  with 
torches,  and  each  "  tipping  his  beaver  "  as  he  passed  and 
the  professor  returning  it. 

Your  brother  in  double  bonds, 

J.  S.  D. 

March  20,  1843. 

Dear  Brother  Thomas  :  Your  painful  silence  has 
awakened  in  my  heart  disappointment  and  anxiety;  dis- 
appointment at  not  receiving  j»romi6'6fZ  letters  from  you, 
and  anxiety  as  to  the  cause  of  your  silence;  whether 
sickness,  business,  or  whether  you  had  entirely  forgot- 
ten that  you  had  a  little  brother  pent  up  by  the  tremen- 
dous snow-drifts,  upon  the  now  bleak  hills  of  Hamilton. 
Date  of  your  last  letter  to  me,  November  23,  1842.  No  ' 
comment  is  necessary.  Since  that  time  I  have  written 
you,  but  have  received  no  answer.  I  find  it  difficult  to 
write  often,  and  when  I  do  write,  and  receive  no  answer, 
it  is  rather  discouraging.  *  *  *  I  have  been  very 
happy  lately,  and  enjoy  more  of  the  presence  of  Jesus, 
and  often  hold  sweet  communion  with  my  Savior  at  the 
mercy  seat.  Privileges  of  a  high  religious  nature  abound 
at  this  institution,  and  there  is  no  barrier  (but  a  cold 
heart)  which  need  keep  us  from  a  corresponding  height 


of  religious  attainment.  There  is  a  great  improvement 
in  the  state  of  piety,  here.  Prayer  is  more  frequent,  and 
more  full  of  faith.  Meetings  are  multiplying;  feeling  is 
deepening;  and  the  work  of  the  Lord  progressing.  Sev- 
eral are  anxious  about  their  salvation,  and  two  have 
recently  found  the  Lord.  The  last  two  meetings  of  the 
"  Monthly  Concert  of  Prayer,"  have  been  very  interest- 
ing. At  the  last  one  the  students  were  addressed  for  a 
few  moments  by  Brother  Bailey,  a  Baptist  minister,  and 
an  agent,  I  believe,  for  the  cause  of  missions.  He  was 
rather  an  ordinary  looking  genius,  and  we  did  not  expect 
to  hear  anything  interesting  from  him,  but  he  had  spoken 
but  a  few  moments  when  the  eyes  of  all  were  fixed  upon 
him,  and  silence  reigned  in  the  chapel.  As  he  advanced 
the  interest  increased,  and  still  deepened  as  he  endeav- 
ored to  arouse  the  same  spirit  in  the  hearts  of  his  hearers 
that  had  burned  in  the  bosoms  of  many,  wlib  had 
but  recently  occupied  the  seats  before  him,  and 
were  now  in  other  lands,  laboring  for  the  heathen. 
He  was  fired  with  his  subject,  and  before  he  sat  down 
the  smothered  feelings  of  those  who  heard  him  broke 
out  in  sobs,  and  tears  trickled  down  the  cheeks  of  many, 
who,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  may  yet  plant  the  cross  in  the 
midst  of  a  heathen  world,  and  preach  Christ  crucified  to 
those  whose  altars  are  now  dedicated  to  the  worship  of 
"  unknown  Gods."  *  *  *  ^he  Spring  vacation  com- 
mences on  the  nineteenth  of  next  month,  continuing 
four  weeks.  I  would  like  to  know  the  wish  of  my 
friends  as  to  what  I  shall  do  at  that  time,  as  of  course,  I 
shall  be  governed  by  them.  If  I  stay  I  am  obliged  to 
board  in  the  town,  as  the  Hall  is  closed  during  vacation, 
but  I  can  board  for  one  dollar  and  a  half  or  two  dollars 
a  week.  I  suppose  sister  Grace  has  returned  from  Phil- 
adelphia.    Give  my  love  to  her,  and  remind  her  of  her 


t 


' 


1; 
is. 


<   il 


56 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


57 


promise  to  write  me  the  remainder  of  her  adventures  in 
the  city  of  "  brotherly  love."  I  long  to  hear  from  John- 
ny; what  is  he  about?  Give  my  love  to  him,  and  tell 
him  I  shall  hope  to  receive  a  letter  from  him  soon. 
*  *  *  My  money  has  all  been  spent,  and  I  owe  a 
little  here.  My  clothes  I  can  make  last  till  vacation, 
when,  if  I  should  not  come  down,  they  could  be  sent  by 
chum.     *     *     * 

April  4,  1843. 

My  Dear  Brother:  As  yet  I  have  received  no  intel- 
ligence as  to  what  I  shall  do  during  the  coming  vacation. 
I  expected  a  letter  by  Dr.  Kendrick,  but  received  none, 
and  feel  anxious,  not  knowing  how  to  act.  John  Col- 
gate thinks  I  had  better  prepare  to  come,  as  you  will 
expect  me  as  a  matter  of  course,  but  I  shall  remain  here 
unless' 1  hear  from  you  to  the  contrary.  *  *  *  I  hear 
rather  strange  news  from  New  York  in  regard  to  you 
and  Gracy  ;  both  over  head  and  heels  in  love.  Be  care- 
ful. "  Look  before  you  leap."  If  you  would  know  my 
authority,  it  came  in  a  letter  to  me  from  the  field  of 
action.  *  *  *  We  had  an  excellent  monthly  concert 
yesterday.  There  is  glorious  news  coming  in  from  every 
part  of  our  dear  country;  thousands  upon  thousands 
have  been  converted.  Many  of  our  brethren  here,  have 
broken  away  from  their  studies,  and  gone  out  to  aid  in 
preaching  the  great  gospel  of  salvation,  and  others  ex- 
pect to  be  about  the  same  good  work  during  vacation. 
How  I  wish  I  had  the  ability  to  preach!  I  would  gladly 
"go  and  do  likewise."  There  is  a  brother  here  who 
expects  to  preach  next  vacation  to  some  good  country 
church,  and  says  he  will  take  me  with  him,  and  that  if  I 
can  not  preach,  I  can  sing  and  pray.     *     *     * 


April  18,  1843. 

Dear  Brother:  As  I  have  received  no  intelligence 
from  the  city  authorizing  me  to  come  home,  I  shall  stay 
here  and  board  in  the  village.  The  postman  has  been 
tired  out  with  my  frequent  calls,  and  when  he  sees  me 
coming,  before  I  have  time  to  ask  for  a  letter,  he  sings 
out  in  a  husky  voice,  "  Nothing  for  you,"  and  I  trot  off 
with  a  lip  quivering  with  sorrow  and  disappointment. 
I  have  been  looking  for  a  letter  so  long,  to  know  whether 
I  shall  pay  you  a  visit  or  not,  that  I  really  feel  down- 
hearted. *  *  *  I  owe  something  for  altering  pants, 
something  in  the  village  for  fixing  a  coat,  and  one  or 
two  other  debts,  in  all  about  three  dollars  and  fifty  cents. 

My  class  will  soon  be  examined  by  a  committee  from 
the  Faculty  in  Latin,  Greek,  and  History,  and  also 
Classical  Literature  and  Geography. 

Since  penning  the  above  T  have  received  a  good  long 
letter  from  you,  and  was  very  well  satisfied  with  its 
contents.  I  feel  a  little  anxious  in  regard  to  your  going 
into  business  on  your  "own  hook."  But  if  you  pursue 
a  lawful  business,  lawfully,  I  think  there  is  little  danger. 
Ask  the  blessing  of  God  upon  every  transaction.  Move 
cautiously,  deal  generously,  mind  your  own  business, 
and  avoid  law-suits  as  you  would  a  counterfeit  V,  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  you  will  be  prospered. 
IHie  Bible  says,  "He  that  giveth  to  the  poor  lendeth  to 
the  Lord."  If  you  would  be  rich  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  give  to  the  cause  of  Christ.  Look  all  around  you, 
and  those  who  have  given  the  most  to  the  poor,  or  to  the 
church,  have  received  in  payment  an  hundred  fold,  and 
are  the  richest  men.  I  hope  and  pray  for  your  success. 
Pray  that  I  may  enjoy  the  presence  of  God. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

James  S.  Dickersox. 


1' 


58 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


59 


Hamilton,  May  27,  1843. 

*  *  *  I  received  a  letter  from  Gra'cy  during  vacation, 
telling  me  she  would  get  any  thing  for  me  I  needed,  if 
practicable.  You  can  show  her  the  list  I  sent  by  John 
Colgate  if  you  choose.  Should  you  send  any  thing, 
place  them  in  a  box  on  board  of  one  of  the  canal  boats, 
as  that  appears  to  be  the  safest  way.  When  you  ship 
them,  please  write  me;  otherwise  they  might  lie  in 
the  store-house  without  my  knowledge.  Write  the  name 
of  the  captain  and  the  boat.  I  need  a  vest  and  a  pair 
of  pants  very  much.  My  vest  is  very  much  woryi  and 
mended,  and  I  have  borrowed  of  John  and  Alvah  on 
extra  occasions.  I  bought  a  pair  of  shoes  in  the  village, 
and  had  them  charged  in  the  name  of  John  Colgate. 
I  spent  my  vacation  very  pleasantly,  and  was  glad  to 
see  chum  when  he  returned,  and  all  the  students  appeared 
very  dear  to  me  when  they  came  back  to  the  Institution. 
I  am  now  well  under  weigh  with  my  studies.  1  have 
commenced  Bullion's  Latin  Grammar  and  Cfesar,  which 
try  me  considerably,  and  shall  soon  begin  Xenophon  and 
Sophocles'  Greek  Grammar.  Do  not  forget  to  send  up 
my  Leghorn  hat  that  I  left  with  you.  I  want  the  one 
with  the  high  crown  and  narrow  brim,  colored,  and  not 
the  one  with  the  broad  brim,  unless  you  can  send 
both.  And  now  I  would  like  to  ask  a  few  questions, 
which  you  will,  of  course,  answer.  How  do  you  enjoy 
religion?  This  is  a  question  of  much  importance  and 
solemnity. 

"Religion  is  the  chief  concern 
Of  mortals  here  below." 

How  are  you  proceeding  with  business?  "  He  that  driveth 
not  his  business,  his  business  will  drive  him."  When  is 
the  next  letter  of  "advice"  coming?    Acts  xx,  35  — 


«  So  laboring,  ye  ought  to  support  the  weak."  Remem- 
ber that  I  always  feel  grateful  for  advice,  and  perhaps 
did  you  know  the  good  which  might  result  from  the 
imparting  of  advice  and  counsel,  you  would  not  be  so 
backward.  *  *  *  I  feel  more  and  more  the  importance 
of  living  holier  and  aiming  higher,  and,  if  I  should 
approach  the  field  of  action,  and  it  be  found  that  my 
talents  are  ordinary,  if  I  only  have  the  spirit  of  the  living 
God  and  the  love  of  Jesus  in  my  soul,  and  good  to  my 
fellows  and  the  honor  and  glory  of  God  be  my  motive 
to  action,  I  know  that  I  shall  prosper.  Pray  that  I  may 
be  enabled  to  bring  myself,  and  all  that  I  have  and  am, 
as  a  sacrifice  to'  the  altar  of  God,  consecrating  all  to 
Him  and  His  cause. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

James  Stokes  Dickerson. 

A  severe  epidemic  now  broke  out  among  the 
students,  called  the  "black  tongue  fever,"  and 
James  was  among  its  victims.  His  illness,  however, 
was  unusually  short,  owing,  as  he  believed,  to  his 
employing  homoeopathic  remedies.  One  of  the  lead- 
ing physicians  of  the  place  had  recently  become  a 
homoeopathist.  James  had  become  much  interested 
in  the  discussions  which  had  arisen,  and  became  so 
far  a  convert  to  the  new  practice  that  he  now 
employed  Dr.  Douglass,  its  newly  declared  champion. 
The  medicines,  faithfully  administered,  worked  like 
a  charm ;  and  James  was  speedily  on  his  feet,  while 
many  were  prostrated  for  weeks,  and  some  disabled 
for  an  entire  term.  He  remained  through  life  an 
enthusiastic  advocate  of  that  system,  and,  when  his 
way  was  hedged  up  as  a  preacher,  studied  it  care- 


111 


60 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT    HAMILTON. 


61 


t ' 


'I ; 


fully  as  a  possible  profession.     He  writes  to  his 
brother : 

*  *  *  Since  last  I  wrote  you,  I  have  been  very  sick 
as  also  my  chum,  John.  He  was  taken  down  with  a 
high  fever  last  Saturday,  and  I  on  Sunday.  I  went  for 
the  doctor  last  Sunday  afternoon  to  come  up  and  see 
John,  and  when  he  came  he  found  me  also  "  lying  and 
sick  of  a  fever."  *  *  *  j  am  much  better,  although 
still  weak.  No  tidings  yet  from  you  in  relation  to  my 
thinffs.  Do  write  soon  and  let  me  know  all  about  them, 
even  though  they  may  not  be  sent  at  all.  As  you  write 
so  very  seldom,  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  attend 
closely  to  your  business.  All  this  is  well,  but  still  one 
thing  recollect,  you  have  a  duty  to  perform  to  a  little 
brother  at  Hamilton,  beset  with  temptations  of  nameless 
variety,  grappling  with  many  difficulties,  forming  a 
character,  a  character  for  life^  yea,  for  eternity. 

Hamilton,  August  2,  1843. 

Dear  Brother  Thomas  :  Again,  after  so  long  a 
time,  I  place  myself  in  a  writing  posture  to  address  you 
a  few  lines.  Of  course  you  are  aware  that  the  term 
closes  in  two  weeks,  and  therefore  we  have  no  time  to 
lose  in  making  necessary  preparations.  You  are  also 
aware  from  the  statements  I  have  sent  you  that  I  have 
no  money  wherewith  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the 
journey  home;  and,  when  I  arrive  in  New  York,  I  know 
not  which  way  to  direct  my  steps,  or  what  place  to  call 
my  home.  I  hope  you  will  write  soon  and  inform  me  in 
relation  to  this  affair.  I  have  entirelv  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  the  influenza,  and  now  feel  as  well  as 
before.  The  influenza  has  been  very  prevalent  here, 
and  few  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  escape  it,  thirty  or 


forty  students  being  sick  at  one   time.     Ten    months 
have  nearly  spent  their  length   since  I  left  New  York, 
and  the  dearest  friends  I   have.     I  hope  the  time  has 
flown  as  happily  with  you  as  with  me.     In  a  few  days  I 
shall  be  examined  in  all  the  studies  of  the  year,  and  I 
look    forward  with   no  little    satisfaction,   and   perhaps 
some  pride,   to  the  title  of  Higher  Academician^  and, 
after  nine  months  more  of  study,  to  that  of  Freshman. 
As  you,  too,  have  been  to  college,  you  can  realize  some- 
thing of  the  many  pleasant  emotions  that  are  aroused  in 
the  breast  of  every  student  at  the  mention  of  the  title. 
Freshman.     But  I  hope  God  will  ever  keep  me  from 
those  motives  that  actuate  the   ambitious  student,  one 
who  strives  to  make  advancement  in  knowledge  merely 
from  selfish   motives.     No,   while   I   study  the   laws  of 
science,  may  I  not  forget  the  laws  of  God;  while  I  pore 
over  books  of  philosophy,  may  I  never  forget  the  Book 
of  Books,  the  Bible.     "Get  wisdom,  and  with  all  thy 
gettings  get  understanding."     O,  may  I  always  remem- 
ber and  obey  the  injunction  of  Him  who  said,  "Learn 
of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart."     As  I  have 
told  you  the   state   of  my  physical   health,   I  must  say 
someting    in    relation    to     the     spiritual.       I    have    not 
enjoyed  as  much  of  the  presence  o:  Jesus  this  term  as  I 
had  hoped.     For  the   last   month   T   have   thought  very 
much  about  home.     Perhaps  when  reading  or  writing  I 
would  stop,  and  before  I  would  recollect  myself  I  would 
have  spent  some  time  in  thinking  about  home.     But  I 
hope  soon  to   be  there,  to  see   my  friends  and  be  with 
them,  and  my  brethren  and  sisters  in  Christ  too.     How 
rejoiced  1  shall  be  to  see  them  again,  and  meet  them 
within  the  sacred  walls  of  the    Tabernacle!     May   the 
time  hasten  on  !     This    home-thinking   has  had  a  ten- 
dency to  draw  off 'my  attention  from  serious  things,  and 


62 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


63 


then  again  the  thought  of  being  among  my  friends,  and 
my  brethren,  with  the  eyes  of  many  upon  me,  has 
stimulated  me  to  greater  exertion,  that  my  walk  and 
conversation  before  them  might  be  such  as  becomes  the 
follower  of  Christ,  and  the  student  for  the  ministry. 
And  if  I  would  walk  well,  I  must  walk  in  the  Spirit.  I 
know  that  I  shall  bear  a  part  in  your  prayers. 

I  have  got  along  very  well  without  the  things  that  I 
sent  for,  as  I  received  an  umbrella,  some  stockings, 
bosoms,  etc.,  from  the  box  sent  by  the  ladies  at  the 
Tabernacle  last  winter,  but  which  did  not  arrive  here 
until  this  term,  being  in  a  boat  that  was  frozen  in  the 
canal.  But  Alvah  Buckbee  gave  me  a  pair  of  trousers 
that  were  too  small  for  him,  and  John  Colgate  has  lent 
me  other  things  that  I  have  needed;  so  you  see  1  have 
been  well  taken  care  of.  I  would  like  very  much, 
Thomas,  to  have  you  come  and  spend  the  last  week  of 
this  term  here,  and  I  know  you  would  enjoy  yourself. 
***  *  *  **** 

I  suppose  Gracy  has  returned  from  her  Niagara  trip, 
with  the  rest  of  the  company.  Give  my  love  to  them 
all,  and  to  other  friends  and  relations  in  the  city.  I 
hope  you  will  succeed  well  in  business.  I  have  made 
your  attention  to  business  the  imaginary  excuse  for 
your  backwardness  in  writing  to  me.  John  Colgate 
expects  his  father  and  mother  here  at  Commencement. 
How  is  my  brother  John,  and  what  is  he  about?  Has 
he  made  his  usual  trip  to  Newburgh  this  term?  I  sup- 
pose he  is  as  wild  as  ever,  and  enjoys  himself  as  much 
as  ever.  I  wish  him  success  and  enjoyment,  but  above 
all  I  wish  that  his  feet  were  off  from  those  slippery 
places.  I  would  rather  see  him  in  the  ark  of  safety 
than,  if  death  should  come,  struggling  under  the 
eternal    weight  of  God's   wrath.     Have  we   done,  and 


:'^ 


are  we  doing  our  duty  in  respect  to  him?  Should  he  be 
taken  in  death,  as  soon  at  the  farthest  he  must  be,  are 
our  skirts  clean  from  blood? 

Your  ever  affectionate  brother, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

We  might  enlarge  much  upon  his  residence  at 
Hamilton,  a  happy  and  eventful  six  years  of  his  life. 
But  what  we  have  said  has,  perhaps,  embraced  the 
most  prominent  points,  and  we  can  only  say  further, 
in  general,  that,  as  a  student,  a  Christian,  and  a 
man,  in  every  relation,  he  bore  with  him  constantly 
the  confidence,  the  esteem,  and  the  affection  of  all. 
We  can  not  more  fittingly  close  this  imperfect  sketch 
of  his  life  at  Hamilton  than  with  the  following  por- 
traiture furnished  by  his  classmate,  the  Rev.  A.  H. 
Burlingham,  D.D.,  as  just  and  truthful  as  it  is  dis- 
criminating and  tender : 

New  York,  April  28,  1877. 

Dear  Mrs.  Dickerson:  My  acquaintance  with  your 
late  husband  began  in  Hamilton  in  the  Spring  of  1843. 
He  entered  the  Institution  there  in  the  Autumn  before, 
and  in  the  Autumn  following  we  became  classmates,  and 
remained  such  through  a  long  course  of  study.  I  can 
not  claim  that  I  was  more  intimate  with  him  than  were 
others  of  our  classmates,  yet  I  may  say  that  we  knew 
each  other  well,  and  were  much  together  in  our  student 
days.  As,  during  this  period,  he  exhibited  the  same 
striking  and  noble  traits  of  character  as  in  after  years  — 
traits  which  will  be  elsewhere  more  appropriately  dwelt 
upon  in  the  memorial  you  are  preparing  —  it  would  be 
out  of  place  for  me  to  attempt  any  exhaustive  treatment 


64 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


65 


of  them  in  the  few  lines  you  have   asked  me   to  con- 
tribute, and  which  I  tender  as  a  service  of  love. 

In  looking  back  to  the  student  days  of  my  friend,  I 
think  of  him  first,  perhaps,  as  a  genial^  enjoyable  com- 
panion. He  had  that  flow  and  goodness  of  nature  which 
made  him  agreeable.  There  was  that  indescribable 
something  in  his  organization  which  drew  people  to  him. 
There  was  no  resisting  the  attraction  of  the  cheery 
pleasantness  and  genial  humor  which  he  ever  displayed. 
He  was  a  universal  favorite  in  the  college.  His  associ- 
ations were  not  limited  to  his  class,  but  he  was  sought 
alike  by  advanced  men  and  by  beginners  among  the  gen- 
eral body  of  students.  No  one  was  better  known  or  more 
beloved  by  the  whole  college  brotherhood  than  was  Mr. 
Dickerson.  The  peculiar  elements  essential  to  popu- 
larity inhered  in  his  nature.  He  did  not  try  to  impress 
himself.  His  influence  came  without  exertion;  it  was 
spontaneous  and  unconscious.  He  charmed  by  a  mag- 
netic soul,  and  sweetly  bound  the  men  to  him  by  his 
svmpathies.  Herein  lay  the  secret  of  his  marvelous 
power  to  fasten  people  to  him.  No  meeting  of  his  class 
was  complete  without  him.  To  the  general  social  life 
of  the  Institution  his  contributions  were  always  large 
and  welcome.  His  spirit  was  chivalrous.  His  sense  of 
honor  was  intuitive,  and  therefore  delicate.  He  knew 
the  meaning  of  justice.  Kindness  and  largeness  of  soul 
ever  characterized  him  in  his  student  relations.  We  all 
loved  him  for  his  good  nature  and  full-heartedness.  We 
all  respected  him  for  his  manhood  and  for  his  fidelity  to 
principle.  There  was  that  talismanic  quality  in  his  being 
which  threw  a  spell  around  every  one  in  his  presence. 
That  his  companionship  was  a  perpetual  enjoyment  the 
general  judgment  and  experience  of  the  men  with  him 
in  college  would  affirm. 


Mr.  Dickerson  is  also  remembered  vividly  and  grate- 
fully by  his  fellow  students  in  Madison  University 
because  of  his  irrepressible  humor  and  wit.  Love  of 
fun  was  a  most  marked  element  in  his  organism,  and  his 
student  life  can  have  no  adequate  portraiture  unless  this 
element  be  brought  into  prominence.  His  college 
friends  would  not  recognize  the  likeness  with  this  touch 
absent.  He  readily  responded  to  the  challenge  of  mirth 
in  others,  but  as  well,  and  perhaps  better,  enjoyed 
making  others  happy  by  the  sallies  of  his  own.  He 
certainly  possessed  great  power  and  was  the  master  of 
great  facilities  for  provoking  merriment  in  others.  This 
ability  in  him  often  rose  to  the  rare  fascination  of 
genuine  wit.  The  ludicrous  side  of  things  he  saw 
quickly  and  keenly,  and  often  portrayed  them  with 
consummate  effect.  In  the  class,  in  the  public  meetings 
of  the  college  men,  in  the  literary  societies,  before  the 
professors,  in  the  more  retired  but  no  less  memorable 
gatherings  of  the  few  in  rooms  where  innocent  enjoy- 
ment crowned  the  hour,  Mr.  Dickerson,  if  the  proprieties 
of  the  occasion  allowed  it,  was  not  expected  to  open 
his  mouth  without  throwing:  all  within  reach  of  his  words 
into  a  state  of  mirth,  to  say  the  least.  In  this  he  always 
succeeded  admirably  well.  There  was  a  facetious  vein 
in  his  being,  a  laugh-witchery  which  was  contagious. 
Into  the  atmosphere  which  he  created  when  this  element 
was  dominant  and  working,  none  could  come  without 
being  made  brighter  and  better.  In  hits,  in  repartee,  in 
a  story,  he  was  notably  happy.  But  he  was  too  kind  to 
be  severe,  too  true  a  gentleman  to  wound,  and  too  pure 
a  Christian  to  be  vuljjar  or  coarse  in  his  wit. 

While  he  was  piquant,  sometimes  quaint,  in  his  inter- 
course with  students,  successful  in  his  take-offs,  boiling 
over  with  proclivities  to  allowable  mischief,  he  was  ever 


66 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  AT  HAMILTON. 


67 


the  considerate  gentleman,  and  the  courteous  and  kind 
Christian   in  all    his   college   associations.      Underlying 
this  pleasantry,  this  fascination  coming  from  a  mercurial 
touch  and  tone,  which  God  so  graciously  gave  him,  Mr. 
Dickerson  had  an  earnest,  stunhj,  strong  nature.     This 
was  as  apparent  in  his  student  days  as  in  his  perfected 
manhood.     His   convictions   were   ever  serious,  bravely 
pronounced,  and  stoutly  defended.      His  life  purj)ose 
when  a  student  impressed   the   men   of   the  college  as 
being  well  defined  and  thoroughly  honest.     Whenever 
any  thing  decided  and  bold,  especially  if  it  were  useful 
and  needful,  was  to  be  done,  he  was  never  found  want- 
ing.    He    was    always   among   the   foremost   and    most 
aggressive  in  projecting  and  executing  measures  for  the 
benefit  of  his  class,  his  literary  society,  and  for  the  more 
public  good  of  his  college.     No  one  could  charjre  him 
with  selfishness.    In  his  ambitions,  he  was  honorable;  in 
his  spirit  and  action,  he  was  benevolent;  in  his  connec- 
tion with    classmates   and   students   generally,   he   was 
generous  and  self-forgetful.     Hold  to  his  point  he  ever 
would.     From    maintaining    what    he    considered    rio-ht 
positions  in  cases  ever  arising  in  the  college,  he  never 
shrank.     He    was    tenacious  of   what  he  thought  right 
and  quickly  inventive  in  expedients  and  arguments  for 
defense    and   aggression.      When    thrown,  he  had    the 
happy  ability  of  striking  upon  his  feet;  for  he  was  intel- 
lectually  nimble,   withy,   rebounding.       His    vigor,    his 
varied   resources,    and    ready    command    of    them;    his 
fluency,  aptness  and  strength  of  speech,  made  him  pow- 
erful  in    the  advocacy  of  any   cause  he  espoused.     If 
sometimes  simply  from  generous  impulse  and  enlisted 
sympathies  he  took  a  position,  he  was  as  fair  and  honest 
as  he  was  strong  in  all  attempts  to  carry  his  point.    With 
the  staunchest  and  most  stalwart  of  his  fellow  students 


he  did  not  hesitate  to  measure  swords  when  he  thought 
himself  right,  and  when  any  suffering  interest  needed 
his  help.  He  was  heroic.  He  had  in  him,  in  extraor- 
dinary degree,  that  rare  but  needed  thing  we  vulgarly 
call  pluck.  He  did  not  propose  to  be  defeated  in  any 
ffood  work  he  undertook.  In  the  execution  of  a  cher- 
ished  purpose,  involving  his  own  or  the  welfare  of 
others,  he  was  self-sacrificing  and  indomitable.  He 
went  on  doing,  daring,  suffering,  till  he  reached  the  goal 
he  sought.  The  college  life  of  my  dear  friend,  though 
the  retrospect  is  had  by  looking  over  the  multifarious 
work  and  teeming  memories  of  over  thirty  years,  looms 
up  to  me,  and  to  his  class,  and  all  the  men  of  the  "  Hill," 
as  a  grand  life.  It  was  earnest,  true,  purposeful.  It 
was  full  of  the  glowing  prophesies  of  which  his  signal 
life-career  was  the  sublime  fulfillment.  As  a  scholar, 
Mr.  Dickerson  made  creditable  attainments  in  all  the 
branches  embraced  in  the  curriculum  of  study.  He 
graduated  with  honor  to  himself  and  to  his  "Alma 
Mater."  While  a  student,  he  proved  himself  to  be  a 
thinker  vigorous  and  inventive,  a  writer  able  and 
brilliant,  a  speaker  eloquent  and  effective. 

In  moral  and  religious  character,  Mr.  Dickerson  was 
(when  at  Hamilton)  a  young  man  of  salient  excellence. 
The  morale  of  his  character  was  striking.  That  it 
never  suffered  d  eterioration  amidst  the  peculiar  influences 
and  temptations  of  college  life,  is  the  highest  proof  of  its 
settledness  and  strength.  In  thought,  in  language,  in 
conduct,  during  his  entire  course  of  education,  he 
evinced  the  possession  of  a  most  refined  moral  sense, 
and  the  most  unswerving  moral  principle.  In  respect  to 
religion  he  did  not  fail  of  maintaining  a  character  con- 
sistent with  the  most  avowed  profession.  He  was 
conscientious.    He  had  genuine  piety,  but  not  a  particle 


68 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


I 


of  cant.  In  class  and  general  prayer-meetings,  he  was 
a  ready  and  refreshing  participant.  Jn  every  way, 
viewed  as  a  Christian,  he  was  cheerful  and  helpful. 
With  his  nature  he  could  not  have  been  otherwise. 
Religion  hallowed  and  toned  his  natural  exuberance,  so 
that  he  took  on  a  type  of  Christian  character  which 
goes  far  to  explain  the  secret  of  his  great  usefulness 
through  hfe. 

Many  of  the  class  of  '48  have  passed  away;  some  of 
us  still  are  toilers  in  the  vineyard;  but  none,  living  or 
dead,  were  more  beloved  and  honored  in  their  academic 
years  than  was  our  dear  brother,  the  now  sainted  James 
S.  Dickerson.     Yours  very  truly 

A.    H.    BURLINGHAM. 


CHAPTER  V. 


LIFE    IN    NEW    YORK. 


For  some  time  previous  to  James'  graduation,  his 
throat  was  so  seriously  affected  that  he  feared  he 
should  be  unable  to  enter  upon  the  work  of  preach- 
ing, even  if  the  way  were  providentially  opened. 
To  his  great  sorrow  his  fears  were  realized.  Not 
only  did  his  physicians  forbid  his  speaking  in  public 
at  present,  but  some  declared  that  he  would  never 
be  able  to  preach.  He  went,  therefore,  into  the 
office  of  Deacon  Colgate,  where  he  remained  for  two 
years,  rendering,  amidst  a  circle  of  loved  and  trusted 
friends,  good  and  thoroughly  appreciated  service. 
During  this  time  he  became  engaged  to  Miss  Julia  P. 
Spencer,  the  adopted  daughter  of  Julius  A.  Spencer, 
of  Utica,  New  York.  He  had  met  her  at  the  house 
of  a  common  friend,  Mrs.  J.  Osgood  Pierce,  in  Ham- 
ilton, where  her  beauty,  her  musical  abilities,  and 
her  lovely  character,  had  won  his  heart.  Her 
parents  were  Episcopalians,  and  naturally  opposed 
to  their  daughter's  allying  herself  with  a  Baptist 
minister.  Their  personal  opposition,  indeed,  disap- 
peared with  an  acquaintance  ;  yet  his  non-connection 
with  "the  Church"  was  still  an  insuperable  obstacle 
to  the  union.  The  parents  thus  remaining  inflexible, 
for  nearly  a  year  all  correspondence  was  dropped 


69 


>l 


i 


uriiniilii-i    iHrriiii 


70 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK. 


71 


! 


i 


between  the  lovers,  who,  however,  were  devotedly 
attached  to  each  other.     In  this,  as  in  all  things, 
Mr.   Dickerson's   course   was    straightforward   and 
honorable.     He  kept  up  no  concealed  correspond- 
ence,  and  sought  no   clandestine    meetings.      He 
could  trust  this,  as  all  other  matters,  to  the  Lord 
with  the  assurance  that  if  it  was  His   will,  they 
would,  in   His   own   time,   realize  their  hopes  and 
wishes.     His  fiiith  was  not  disappointed. 

In  1850,  Dr.  M.  B.  Anderson,  then  a  young  pro- 
fessor m  Waterville  College,  Maine,  but  who  was 
driven  from  his  post  by  an  affection  of  the  throat, 
somewhat  similar  to  that  which  had  compelled  James 
to   withhold  himself    from   his   chosen   profession, 
came  to  New  York  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  in 
part,  and  taking  the  editorship  of   the  New  York 
Recorder.     In   conversation   with   Deacon    Colgate 
regarding  his  plans  and  prospects,  he  one  day  asked 
the  deacon  if  he  could  introduce  him  to  some  capa- 
ble and  trustworthy  young  man  who  could  become 
joint  proprietor  with  him  of  the  paper,  and  take  the 
management  of  its  business  interests.     The  mind  of 
the  latter  immediately  recurred  to  James,  who  was 
at  once  sent  for  and  introduced  to  Professor  Ander- 
son.   As   the   result  of    the   interview   they  soon 
became  partners  in  the  enterprise,  and  amidst  many 
trials  and  discouragements  labored  together  for  four 
years  m  conducting  what  speedily  became  one  of  the 
ablest  religious  journals  in  the  land.     The  extraor- 
dmary  ability  of  the  then  youthful  editor  — giving 
splendid  promise  of  the  capabilities  which  he  has 
since  exhibited  in    other  fields -were  admirably 


seconded  by  the  business  tact  and  sagacity,  the  tire- 
less industry  and  the  admirable  judgment,  of  his  still 
younger  partner,  so  that  the  paper  speedily  lifted 
itself  into  a  power  recognized  not  only  by  the  relig- 
ious body  of  which  it  was  the  immediate  organ,  but 
by  the  entire  Christian  public.  To  the  special 
obstacles  which  the  paper  liad  to  encounter  it  is 
unnecessary  here  to  refer :  it  is  enough  to  say  that 
the  two  co-laborers  working  harmoniously  and  effi- 
ciently, each  in  his  own  sphere,  were  by  their  joint 
labors  placing  the  paper  on  the  basis  of  permanent 
usefulness  and  prosperity,  when  the  call  of  its  chief 
editor  to  another,  and  possibly  more  important  posi- 
tion, as  head  of  the  Rochester  University,  terminated 
the  relation  which  had  existed  so  pleasantly  between 
them.  The  following  letter  from  Dr.  Anderson, 
referring  specially  to  this  period,  sheds  its  light  also 
on  Mr.  Dickerson's  general  character: 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Dickersox:  My  eyes  are  so  weak 
that  I  am  unable  to  work  at  night;  and,  as  the  night  is 
almost  the  only  time  which  I  can  command,  apart  from 
my  official  duties,  for  this  reason  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
do  what  you  ask  of  me  in  connection  with  the  memoir 
of  your  husband.  Since  I  left  New  York,  twenty,  years 
ago,  I  have  met  Mr.  D.  but  seldom,  and  our  paths  of 
labor  have  been  entirely  apart  from  each  other.  Our 
connection  in  New  York  seems  to  me  like  an  inade- 
quately remembered  dream. 

I  first  met  Mr.  Dickerson  in  New  York,  in  the  Winter 
of  1849-50,  at  the  time  when  we  were  negotiating  the 
purchase  of  the  N'ew  York  Recorder,  In  the  Spring  of 
that  year  I  removed  to  that  city,  and  from  that  time  until 


J 


ftS 


72 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


I  went   to    Rochester    we    were   intimately   associated 
m  business  and  labor.     We  were  both  without  exper- 
ience—he in  the  business,  and  I  in  the  editorial  man- 
agement of  a  paper.     As   the    older   man,  the    serious 
responsibility  of  shaping  the  policy  of   the  paper  and 
preparing  editorials,  devolved  upon  me,  while  he  attended 
to  the  finances  of   the   establishment.      Circumstances 
which  I  do  not  care  to  recall,  made  our  position  exceed- 
ingly  difficult.      Some    feared,   others    hoped,   for   our 
failure;  and  our  courage  and  powers  of  endurance  were 
severely  tried.     I  believe  that  each  of  us  did  the  work 
ordinarily  accomplished  by  two  men.     We  reduced  our 
expenses  to  the  lowest  point,  and  entered  with  all  our 
energies  upon  the  task  before  us.     In  all  our  difficulties 
your  husband  was  always  hopeful  and  loyal.     Until  his 
marriage  he  resided  with  us,  and  he  always  threw  around 
him    an    atmosphere  of  good    humor   and    cheerfulness 
which  made  him  the  light  of  our  home. 

In  all  our  relations,  I  do  not  now  recall  the  slightest 
want  of  harmony  of  feeling  or  action.     He  developed  in 
the  business  the  skill  and  tact  which  characterized  him 
through  his  life.     The  experience  in  business,  and  the 
knowledge  of  men  which  he  thus  acquired,  were  doubt- 
less one  source  of  his  success  in  the  pastoral  relation  in 
subsequent  life.     His  unfailing  kindness  of  nature,  and 
his  facility  in  seizing  the  humorous  side  of  life,  relieved 
him  from  much  of  the  friction  which  often  wears  out  less 
happily  constituted  natures,  and  left  him  the  control  of 
all  his  capacities  for  effective  action.     His  quick  sym- 
pathy with  the  joy  or  sorrow  of  others  gave  him  influence 
over  all  with  whom   he  came  in  contact,  and  made  hini 
then,  what  he  always  continued  to  be,  a  universal  favor- 
ite, whether  in  business  or   social    circles.     While   we 
were  associated,  his  time  and  strength  were  absorbed  in 


LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK. 


78 


the  business  department  of  the  paper,  and  he  wrote  but 
little.  His  capacity  as  a  writer  and  preacher  was  devel- 
oped subsequently  to  our  acquaintance. 

His  success  as  a  preacher  and  an  editor  came  to  me 
in  the  light  of  a  surprise,  and  gave  proof  of  latent 
capacity  whose  existence  I  had  hardly  been  aware  of. 
I  know  of  few  men  who  have  possessed  faculties  readily 
adapted  to  so  great  a  variety  of  work.  He  seemed 
equally  at  home  in  every  place  which  he  occupied  in  his 
somewhat  checkered  career.  He  had  in  perfection  the 
"  practical  "  intellect,  and  this  developed  into  what  may 
be  best  designated  as  administrative  power.  I  never 
heard  your  husband  preach,  and  I  can  give  no  analysis 
of  the  elements  of  his  success  in  the  pulpit;  but  I  can 
readily  understand  the  causes  of  his  success  as  a  pastor. 
He  seized  the  characters  of  men  whom  he  met  almost  by 
instinct.  His  wide  experience  in  business  enabled  him 
to  appreciate  the  temptations  and  trials  of  an  average 
congregation,  and  meet  their  religious  wants  in  a  man- 
ner of  which  few  men  are  capable.  He  was  strong  where 
most  men,  whose  training  is  that  of  the  study  alone, 
are  weak. 

That  knowledge  of  men,  that  round  common  sense 
which  never  can  be  obtained  from  books,  is  one 
of  the  strongest  elements  in  the  typical  pastor.  Ten 
men  fail  from  want  of  the  pastoral  capacity  and  train- 
ing, where  one  fails  as  a  preacher.  The  study  of  the 
mind  and  heart,  which  is  necessary  to  make  a  good 
pastor,  is  the  best  preparation  for  writing  a  gospel  ser- 
mon. I  imagine  that  the  sources  from  which  your 
husband  drew  the  best  elements  of  his  pulpit  power 
were  the  unwritten  experiences  of  the  plain  men  and 
women  who  form  the  bulk  of  every  Christian  congrega- 
tion.     That  combination   of    mental   and   moral   traits 


74 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSOISr. 


LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK. 


75 


i 


which  made  him  the  favorite  in  social  circles,  and  the 
successful  negotiator  in  business,  gave  him  control  over 
the  minds  of  his  congregation,  and  made  him  the  natu- 
ral leader  and  organizer  in  all  the  work  of  his  church. 
The  great  success  of  the  Christian  pastor  is  found  not 
so  much  in  what  he  does,  himself,  as  in  what  he  induces 
others  to  accomplish.  These  elements  of  mind  in  Mr. 
Dickerson  were  rendered  effective,  and  received  their 
direction  and  impulse,  from  a  warm-hearted  and  unselfish 
devotion  to  the  cause  of  Christ  and  the  well-being  of  his 
fellow  men.  This  resulted  in  an  earnest  and  cheerful 
piety  which  irradiated  his  whole  nature  and  made  all  his 
capacities,  natural  and  acquired,  completely  available 
for  Christian  labor. 

My  intimate  association  with  your  husband  is  one  of 
the  memories  of  my  life  which  I  recall  with  sincere 
satisfaction.  That  the  impressions  which  he  left  on 
others,  in  the  various  relations  of  his  later  life,  were 
equally  pleasant  I  have  not  a  doubt.  That  the  absorb- 
ing desire  to  do  his  duty  by  serving  God  and  his  fellow- 
men,  which  he  showed  when  young,  continued  to  affect 
him  through  life  is  obvious  to  all  who  have  watched  his 
career  in  maturer  years.  How  cheerful  and  self- 
sacrificing,  how  affectionate  he  was  in  private  life, 
those  only,  who  knew  him  intimately,  can  fully  under 
stand. 

Regretting  that  I  can  not  render  you  more  efficient 
service  in  the  memorial  you  are  about  to  rear  in 
honor  of  your  husband,  1  am 

Yours  very  truly, 

TT^  ,  M.  B.  Anderson. 

Rochester,  April  28,  1877. 

After  a  time  James'  wooing  affairs,  thanks  to  his 
excellent  character  and  business  fidelity,  began  to 


prosper.  Mr.  Spencer,  the  father  of  the  object  of 
his  attachment,  meeting  him  occasionally  in  New 
York  in  company  with  Mr.  Anderson  and  other 
leading  Baptists ;  seeing  the  important  position  that 
he  was  holding,  and  how  thoroughly  he  commanded 
the  confidence  of  his  associates,  found  his  objections 
to  one  who  was  outside  of  "the  Church"  gradually 
melting  away,  and  at  length  entering  his  office  made 
the  welcome  announcement  that  he  was  at  liberty  to 
resume  his  suspended  intercourse  with  his  daughter, 
adding  that  he  was  increasingly  assured  of  her  genuine 
and  deep  affection  for  him.  James'  heart  bounded 
with  a  lover's  exultation  at  the  permission  thus 
accorded  ;  he  lost  no  time  in  making  a  journey  to 
Utica,  and  that  he  came  back  with  a  happier  heart 
might  well  be  believed  by  those  who  knew  the  thor- 
ough loveliness,  both  in  person  and  character,  of  the 
lady  to  whom  he  was  now  affianced.  About  a  year 
after  (June  9,  1852)  they  were  married.  They  took 
and  fitted  up  pleasant  rooms  with  a  family  in  Brook- 
lyn, where  they  lived  more  than  a  year,  and  until 
after  the  birth  of  their  first  child,  J.  Spencer  Dick- 
erson. They  then  removed  to  New  York  City, 
where  Ada,  their  eldest  daughter  —  through  life  a 
suffering  yet  patient  invalid  —  was  born. 

During  Mr.  Dickerson's  connection  with  the 
Recorder^  he  not  unfrequently  went  on  tours  of  col- 
lection, and  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  new 
subscribers  for  the  paper.  In  these  excursions  he 
sometimes  walked  hundreds  of  miles,  stopping  as 
occasion  served,  and  finding  often  poor  lodgings  and 
very  indifferent  meals.  He  never,  however,  yielded  to 


76 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK. 


77 


discouragement,  maintained  an  unfailing  buoyancy 
of  spirit,  and  wrote  letters  so  full  of  humorous  and 
racy  descriptions  of  his  varied  experiences,  and 
repeated  them  orally  on  his  return  with  such  infinite 
zest  and  drollery,  that  the  laborious  and  self-denying 
tour  would  seem  to  have  been  but  the  sportive  frolic 
of  a  student's  vacation.  We  mention  this  because 
it  was  a  characteristic  of  his  life.  The  shadow  to 
him  always  had  its  sunshine  ;  every  event  turned 
out  to  his  happily  constituted  vision  its  briglii:er 
aspect ;  and  what  seemed  an  unmitigated  evil  was,  by 
the  alchemy  of  his  joyous  nature,  transmuted  into  a 
blessing. 

It  may  be  descending  a  little  below  the  dignity  of 
our  narrative,  yet  we  can  scarcely  forbear  giving  an 
instance,  furnished  during  his  New  York  residence, 
and  while  he  was  connected  with  the  paper,  of  that 
almost  rollicking  humor  which  was  inwrought  into 
his  nature,  and  in  a  thousand  innocent  and  merry 
ways  was  perpetually  coming  to  the  surface.  Quick 
to  discern  the  ludicrous,  and  gifted  with  great 
powers  of  mimicry,  he  of  course  almost  always  con- 
fined their  exercise  to  the  small  inner  circles  in 
which  he  was  thoroughly  known,  and  in  no  danger 
of  being  misunderstood.  None  can  doubt  that  the 
temperament  is  a  happy  one,  if  not  unduly  indulged, 
and  always  controlled,  as  in  his  case  it  invariably 
was,  by  thorough  kindness.  On  the  occasion  we 
allude  to,  he  stepped  a  little  out  of  his  ordinary 
bounds,  and  made  one  of  his  brothers  the  subject  of 
his  fun-loving  propensities.  The  incident  under  the 
name  of  "  the  ferry  affair,"  has  become  one  of  the 


0 


stories  of  the  family.  His  elder  brother,  Thomas, 
on  whom  he  played  the  joke,  and  who  lived  near 
him  in  Williamsburgh,  thus  relates  it: 

I  had  trouble  with  two  Englishmen,  "Jones  and 
Lacham,"  and  .James  knew  about  it.  One  night,  about 
ten  o'clock,  I  was  returning  from  New  York,  and,  just 
as  the  boat  was  landing,  the  night  dark,  and  the  wind 
high,  a  man  wrapped  in  a  cloak  and  wearing  a  slouched 
hat,  pressed  through  the  crowd  and  addressing  me,  said: 
"Have  you  much  acquaintance  here?  I  have  just 
arrived  from  Europe,  and  was  directed  to  Williamsburgh, 
on  Long  Island,  to  find  my  friends,  .Jones  and  Lacham." 
His  voice  was  on  a  high  key,  and  his  manner  and  tone 
quite  imperative.  I  told  him  I  knew  the  family.  They 
lived  on  Grand  street,  about  two  miles  awav.  He  asked 
me  if  I  would  not  go  there  with  him.  I  told  him  "  No, 
you  can  find  it  by  my  directions."  He  was  noisy  and 
demonstrative  ;  found  fault  with  the  customs  of  the 
country,  and  said  that  in  England  the  people  were  more 
polite,  etc.  I  concluded  he  was  an  English  snob,  with 
plenty  of  beer  about  him.  I  went  with  him  to  the 
corner  and  showed  him  his  way.  He  kept  his  cloak 
about  his  face,  and  I  was  a  little  suspicious  as  to  what  he 
was,  but  did  not  suspect  James.  We  parted.  I  hurried 
on  toward  home,  and  had  not  gone  more  than  two  blocks 
before  he  came  switching  around  the  corner  from  an 
opposite  direction,  and,  coming  abruptly  up  to  me,  stood 
in  my  way  in  a  threatening  manner,  saying,  "  Sir,  you 
have  deceived  me;  I  want  you  to  go  with  me,  and  at 
once."  He  was  dancing  around  me  about  ten  feet  ofi", 
making  all  kinds  of  gesticulations,  and  calling  me  a 
fraud  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  I  got  angry,  told  him 
to  clear  out,  and    charged   him  with   being  drunk;  said 


»1 


78 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


I  had  nothing  to  do  with  him,  etc.  "  Yes  you  have,"  he 
replied,  "  and  I  will  make  it  hot  for  you.  You  have  got 
my  relatives,  '  Jones  &  Co.,'  in  your  power,  and  I  will 
fix  you."  He  would  not  let  me  pass,  but  as  I  went 
toward  him,  determined  to  strike  him  down  and  get  by, 
he  jumped  into  the  street,  threw  his  cloak  about  him 
and  showed  fight.  I  thought  it  best  to  retreat,  think- 
ino-  the  man  was  a  drunken  lunatic.  I  ran,  he 
after  me.  I  made  for  my  house,  ran  up  the  steps, 
locked  the  door  quickly,  and  looking  through  the  window 
blinds  at  the  follow  on  the  sidewalk,  got  a  glimpse  of 
him  that  led  me  to  believe  for  the  first  time  that  it 
might  be  James;  but  I  was  not  certain  about  it,  till  he 
put  on  the  cloak  and  cap,  and  imitated  the  voice  of  the 
Englishman,  as  he  did  on  the  ferry-boat. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

xlESIDENCE  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 

At  the  end  of  four  years  the  transfer  of  Dr. 
Anderson  to  the  presidency  of  the  University  of 
Rochester,  dissolved  their  relation  and  made  neces- 
sary the  selling  of  the  paper.  Mr.  Dickerson  now 
engaged  in  the  business  of  bookseller  and  publisher, 
and  established  himself  in  Broadway,  New  York. 
Here  he  continued  for  two  years,  when  circum- 
stances requiring  him  to  sell  out,  he  became  associ- 
ated in  the  same  business  with  Sheldon,  Blakeman 
&  Co.  In  1856  he  was  appointed  secretary  of  the 
American  Baptist  Publication  Society ;  he  accepted 
the  appointment  and  removed  to  Philadelphia. 
After  holding  this  office  for  four  years,  he  became, 
in  1860,  proprietor  and  editor  of  the  Christian 
Chronicle  of  Philadelphia.  During  most  of  his  life 
in  Philadelphia  he  was  a  member  of  the  Eleventh 
Baptist  Church,  of  which  Dr.  D.  B.  Cheney  was 
pastor.  Dr.  Cheney  has  kindly  furnished  an  account 
of  those  years  in  which  they  so  harmoniously  worked 
together. 

Mrs.  J.  S.  Dickerson — My  dear  Madam:     You  ask 

me   to   contribute   a    few   reminiscences   of   your   late 

lamented  husband's  life  in  Philadelphia  for  the  memorial 

79 


I 


80 


JAMES  8.  DICKERSON. 


volume  soon  to  appear.  To  no  similar  service  could  I 
be  called  that  would  be  more  congenial  to  my  own  feel- 
ings, or  to  which  my  heart  would  respond  with  greater 
delight.  And  yet,  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  I 
fear  that  I  may  be  able  to  recall  but  little  of  interest  to 
the  general  reader  connected  with  that  uneventful  period 
of  Dr.  Dickerson's  life. 

As  an  attached  personal  friend,  and  as  the  pastor  of 
his  sister's  family  in  Philadelphia,  he  very  naturally 
looked  to  me  for  information  when  the  question  of  his 
removal  to  that  city  was  first  presented  to  him.  The 
American  Baptist  Publication  Society  needed  a  deposit- 
ory agent  who  should  have  in  charge  the  business  inter- 
ests of  the  Society.  Members  of  the  board,  myself  and 
others,  named  Mr.  Dickerson  as  the  man  of  our  choice 
for  the  place.  News  of  this  reached  him  in  New  York. 
Friends  from  Philadelphia  called  upon  him,  and  in  an 
unofficial  way  urged  his  favorable  consideration  of  the 
subject,  should  it  assume  a  definite  form,  as  it  gave 
promise  of  doing  at  an  early  day.  At  this  stage  of 
the  proceedings  Mr.  Dickerson  wrote  me  a  long  confi- 
dential letter  of  inquiry  that  now  lies  before  me.  It 
bears  date  June  11,  1856,  and  was  written  from  the  well- 
known  book-store  of  Messrs.  Sheldon,  Blakeman  &  Co., 
of  New  York,  with  which  he  was  then  connected.  After 
referring  to  the  facts  stated  above,  he  wrote  :  "  I  sup- 
pose my  friends,  I  mean  my  worldly  business  friends, 
would  think  me  insane  to  talk  or  think  of  such  a  thing 
as  accepting  this  appointment.  But  while  my  business 
prospects  are  bright  and  promise  something  for  the 
future,  I  feel  that  I  ought  not  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
amount  of  good  I  am  accomplishing  now.  In  the  way 
in  which  business  is  now  driven,  especially  in  New  York, 
a  young  man  is  almost  necessarily  so  absorbed  as  to 


RESIDENCE  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


81 


unfit  him  for  present  usefulness,  and  his  only  hope,  if  he 
really  desires  to  do  good,  is  to  do  his  best  in  a  limited 
way,  and  after  a  while,  when  riches  come,  deal  them  out 
bountifully,  and  thus  compensate*  for  past  inactivity. 
This  is  the  reason  why  I  do  not  feel  exactly  satisfied 
with  my  mode  of  life." 

The  italics  in  the  above  are  his  own.  This  letter 
reveals  a  marked  characteristic  of  his  whole  life  ;  an 
earnest  desire  to  engage  in  present  work  for  Christ  and 
His  cause.  Soon  after  this,  as  chairman  of  a  committee 
of  the  board,  it  devolved  upon  me  to  conduct  the  cor- 
respondence with  him  that  led  to  his  removal  to  Phila- 
delphia in  the  Autumn  of  1856.  Though  I  have  none  of 
the  many  letters  that  passed  between  us  now  in  my 
possession,  yet  1  have  this  distinct  recollection  that  his 
desire  to  engage  in  direct  Christian  work  seemed  to  be 
his  governing  motive  in  accepting  the  place  opened 
before  him.  In  a  long  personal  interview  I  had  with 
him,  he  told  me  of  his  great  disappointment  in  not  being 
able  to  enter  upon  the  work  of  the  ministry,  to  which  he 
had  earlv  consecrated  his  life,  because  of  his  bronchial 
troubles  ;  and  said  that  next  to  preaching  the  gospel,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  could  best  serve  Christ  and  His 
cause  by  helping  to  create  and  circulate  a  Christian  and 
denominational  literature.  That  he  entered  the  work 
of  the  Publication  Society  under  the  full  conviction 
that  he  could  there  more  directly  labor  to  advance  the 
cause  of  Christ  than  in  the  private  walks  of  business 
life,  I  entertain  not  a  doubt.  And  he  was  right  in  this 
view  of  the  case.  He  was  there  at  once  brought  into  a, 
close  connection  with  a  great  number  of  Sunday  schools 
throughout  the  entire  field  of  the  Society's  operations. 
The  Society  had  not  then,  as  now,  depositories  in  Boston 
and   New   York,   Chicago   and   St.  Louis.     Hence   the 


82 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


83 


Sunday  schools,  East  and  West,  secured  their  supplies 
largely  from  the  depository  in  Philadelphia.  Mr.  Dick- 
erson  at  once  saw  that  through  this  agency  he  could 
extend  a  helping  hand  to  Christian  workers  over  a  vast 
field.  And  though  he  had  never  entered  the  ministry, 
yet  his  heart  was  in  full  accord  with  the  work  of  the 
ministry,  and  he  believed  that  in  this  place  he  could  be 
a  helper  to  many  of  his  brethren  who  were  toiling  in 
poverty  and  in  obscure  places,  with  few  opportunities 
for  their  own  personal  improvement.  As  it  was  a 
department  of  the  Society's  work  to  furnish  to  poor  min- 
isters libraries  and  other  helps,  it  appealed  at  once  to 
the  best  sympathies  of  his  heart.  It  was  this  prospect 
of  beinif  brouo^ht  into  direct  contact  with  Christian 
work  that  induced  him  to  enter  the  service  of  the 
Society. 

How  genial  and  attractive  he  made  our  "  Baptist 
headquarters  "  in  that  city  it  would  be  superfluous  for 
me  to  state  to  any  who  knew  the  man,  or  who  ever 
entered  the  "  Rooms  "  while  the  business  department 
was  under  his  control.  He  was  at  once  the  welcome 
companion  of  the  most  cultured  of  his  brethren,  and 
knew  how  to  sympathize  with  those  whose  lot  was 
among  the  lowly.  I  think  I  can  safely  say  that  no  one 
ever  went  to  him,  while  there,  for  counsel  and  sympathy 
in  vain.  While  abounding  in  genial  humor  and  a  play- 
ful cheerfulness,  he  at  the  same  time  was  a  wise,  earnest, 
and  safe  counsellor.  These  characteristics  early  gave  him 
a  large  place  in  the  love  and  confidence  of  his  brethren 
in  that  city.  That  he  was  a  popular  and  successful 
officer  of  the  Society  I  think  would  be  the  unanimous 
testimony  of  those  now  living  who  were  then  members 
of  the  board.  I  remained  associated  with  him  in  this 
relation  until  the  Summer  of  1859,  and  I  do  not  remem- 


ber that  his  administration  was  ever  criticised.  We  all 
felt  that  the  work  intrusted  to  him  was  in  safe  hands  and 
was  well  done. 

But  Mr.  Dickerson  was  brought  into  a  closer  relation 
to  me,  and  my  heart  prompts  me  to  speak  of  him  in 
that  relation.  Upon  his  removal  to  the  city  he  at  once 
became  a  member  of  my  church,  and  his  home  was  but 
a  single  square  from  my  own.  Though  he  had  been 
educated  for  the  ministry,  and  in  early  life  licensed  to 
preach,  yet  he  was  known  among  us  as  a  Christian  lay- 
man. While  his  relations  to  the  public  caused  him  to 
be  often  called  upon  for  special  services  by  the  churches 
and  Sunday  schools  of  the  city  and  vicinity,  yet  I  have 
always  looked  upon  him  as  a  model  layman  in  his  rela* 
tions  to  his  own  church. 

He  was  loyal  to  his  own  church.  He  recognized  the 
fact  that  church  membership  involved  obligations  :  that 
his  covenant  with  his  church  was  a  reality,  and  not  a 
mere  form.  Though  he  was  poor  and  his  income  small, 
he  at  once  assumed  his  full  share  of  the  financial  bur- 
dens of  the  church  and  met  it  promptly.  He  also 
shared  liberally  with  his  brethren  in  meeting  all  the 
calls  of  benevolence  that  were  addressed  to  them.  The 
appointments  of  the  church  he  regarded  as  including 
him.  He  gave  his  pastor  the  support  of  his  presence, 
and  his  earnest  attention  and  sympathy  twice  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  twice  during  the  week.  Whoever  else  was 
absent  I  always  expected  to  see  him  in  his  pew  Sabbath 
morning  and  evening,  and  in  his  seat  at  the  Wednesday 
evening  lecture,  and  Friday  evening  prayer  meeting. 
If  called  to  go  elsewhere  to  do  Christian  work  his  habit 
was  to  inform  me,  that  I  should  not  be  disappointed 
because  his  place  was  vacant.  In  the  prayer-meeting 
he  was  one  of  the  best  helpers  I  ever  knew.     He  knew 


; 


84 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


85 


how  to  speak  ''a  word  in  season."  He  displayed 
wonderful  tact;  the  power  to  adapt  himself  to  the  needs 
of  a  meeting.  When  the  pastor  introduced  a  thought 
or  subject  for  the  meeting,  he  was  ready  to  follow  in  the 
same  line.  His  rapid  thought  and  ready  utterance,  his 
genial  spirit  and  deep  Christian  love,  gave  him  great 
power  in  a  prayer-meeting  talk.  Some  of  the  most 
fervid,  stirring,  melting  appeals  1  have  ever  heard  fell 
from  his  lips  in  these  services. 

He  was  with  us, during  a  rich  harvest  season  in  the 
church.  For  three  years  we  had  constantly  in  the  con- 
gregation anxious  inquirers  and  rejoicing  converts,  and 
baptisms  occurred  almost  monthly  during  the  entire 
time.  The  work  began  in  the  Autumn  of  1855  and 
culminated  in  the  great  revival  season  of  1857-8.  In 
carrying  forward  this  great  work  after  the  first  year, 
Mr.  Dickerson  was  my  constant  and  faithful  helper. 
He  taught  a  young  ladies'  Bible  class,  for  whose  religious 
welfare  he  labored  most  earnestly.  He  was  with  me  in 
the  inquiry  meeting,  among  the  converts,  and  in  the 
more  public  services.  That  he  won  many  precious  souls 
to  Christ  during  that  remarkable  season  of  relijrious 
interest,  who  will  at  last  shine  as  stars  in  his  crown  of 
rejoicing,  1  have  no  doubt. 

As  may  readily  be  inferred  from  the  above  Mr.  Dick- 
erson was  loyal  as  a  layman  to  his  pastor.  He  knew 
how  to  hold  up  the  hands  of  his  pastor,  and  how  to 
encourage  his  heart.  He  was  not  afraid  or  ashamed,  on 
the  one  hand,  occasionally  to  speak  an  appreciative 
word  of  a  sermon  or  even  of  a  prayer-meeting  talk,  or, 
on  the  other,  to  make  a  suggestion  to  the  pastor  privately^ 
upon  any  point  where  he  thought  the  public  services 
could  be  improved.     He  was   constant  and  earnest  in 


his  endeavors  to  make  his  pastor  strong  in  the  church 
and  the  community 

One  chapter  in  the  life  of  Mr.  Dickerson,  perhaps 
more  than  any  other,  endeared  him  to  me  and  revealed 
the  true  manhood  of  the  man.  In  the  Spring  of  1858 
I  found  myself  broken  down  from  overwork,  and  my 
church  gave  me  leave  of  absence  for  a  half  year  to 
recruit.  I  at  once  determined  upon  a  tour  in  Europe. 
Mr.  Dickerson  cheerfullv  consented  to  act  as  chairman 
of  the  committee  on  pulpit  supply  during  my  absence. 
His  position  in  the  Publication  rooms  gave  him  peculiar 
facilities  for  doing  the  work.  Before  leaving  home  I 
arranged  with  the  pastors  of  the  city  so  that  it  was  easy 
for  him  to  supply  the  pulpit  the  first  half  of  the  time 
of  my  absence,  but  the  supply  of  the  last  half  was 
practically  left  in  his  hands.  I  had  often  talked  with 
him  about  making  the  trial  of  preaching,  as  I  knew  how 
his  heart  yearned  for  the  work,  but  his  bronchial  trouble 
was  so  constant  tUijj^he  feared  to  make  the  attempt.  Even 
the  prayer- meeting  talks  mentioned  above  often  gave 
him  nights  of  great  suffering.  In  talking  with  him  about 
the  supply  of  the  pulpit  during  the  last  months  of  my 
absence,  1  said  :  "  Brother  Dickerson,  preach  yourself." 
When  he  urjred  the  condition  of  his  throat  as  a  reason 
why  he  could  not  attempt  it,  I  replied  that  he  was 
ainonir  his  friends  who  honored  and  loved  him;  that  he 
need  not  go  beyond  his  strength;  that  a  brief  service, 
such  as  he  could  conduct,  would  be  much  more  accept- 
able to  the  people  than  other  supplies  that  he  might  be 
obliged  to  accept.  Months  passed;  the  pastoral  supplies 
for  which  I  had  arranged  were  exhausted;  and  Mr.  Dick- 
erson found  it  not  easy  to  meet  the  demands  of  a  large 
congregation  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  with  such  sup- 


\^\ 


86 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


I 

I   ; 


plies  as  he  could  secure.  At  length  a  Saturday  came 
when  he  had  no  supply  engaged  for  the  next  day  nor 
did  he  know  where  to  find  one.  When  considering: 
what  he  should  do  he  remembered  the  words  "  preach 
yourself,"  and  he  resolved  that  he  would  make  the 
attempt.  As  he  said  to  me  afterwards,  "  1  thought  I 
could  but  fail;  if  my  voice  left  me  the  people  would 
know  why  I  did  not  complete  the  service,  and,  in  any 
event  I  should  show  my  good  will."  For  years  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  make  notes  or  outlines  of  sermons 
in  connection  with  his  Bible-reading,  for  his  own  grati- 
fication (so  fully  was  his  heart  in  sympathy  with  the 
work  of  preaching),  with  no  thought  of  ever  being  a})le 
to  use  them  in  the  pulpit.  He  went  early  to  his  home 
that  Saturday  and  made  what  preparation  he  could  from 
some  of  these  notes  or  outlines  for  the  next  dav. 

The  Sabbath  came,  a  beautiful  autumnal  Sabbath, 
and  a  large  congregation  met  him.  He  preached  with 
unexpected  ease  to  himself,  and  to  #»  great  delight  of 
the  people.  After  the  labors  of  the  day,  he  said  he 
suffered  less  than  he  had  often  done  after  a  simple 
prayer-meeting  talk.  This  settled  the  question  of  sup- 
plies. The  people  took  the  matter  into  their  own 
hands;  they  rallied  around  him  with  a  new  interest;  he 
preached  Sabbath  after  Sabbath  with  increasing  ease  to 
himself,  and  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  church.  It 
was  like  a  revelation  to  him  that  he  was  so  far  able  to 
surmount  his  bodily  infirmity  as  to  engage  in  the  work 
to  which  he  had  early  given  his  life,  but  from  which  he 
had  been  so  long  deterred.  He  was  preaching  to  a 
church  where  his  personal  popularity  was  almost 
unbounded,  and  when  the  pastor  was  thousands  of 
miles  away.  And  here  he  revealed  his  true  manhood. 
No  service  was  allowed  to  pass  without  the  most  aflPec- 


a^Il.  !!«.«.  WUIL    J 


RESIDENCE  IN  PHILA-DELPHIA. 


87 


tionate  remembrance  of  the  absent  pastor.  He  sought 
in  every  way  to  keep  the  pastor  in  his  true  position  in 
the  church,  and  to  prepare  the  way  for  him  to  resume 
his  work  on  his  return.  What  he  had  been  in  my 
presence  he  was  in  my  absence,  and  even  more.  On  my 
return  he  was  the  first  man  to  greet  me  with  a  "welcome 
home,"  and  none  seemed  more  glad  than  he  to  see  me 
again  in  my  own  pulpit. 

After  this  Mr.  Dickerson  was  frequently  invited  to 
preach  for  diff'erent  churches,  and  I  have  always  regarded 
this  experience  as  helping  to  prepare  the  way  for  his 
entrance  upon  the  work  of  the  ministry,  to  which  he 
devoted  the  best  years  of  his  life,  and  in  which  he 
enjoyed  so  signally  the  smiles  of  Heaven. 

In  talking  over  our  experience  in  Philadelphia,  as  we 
have  often  done  in  later  years.  Dr.  Dickerson  has  said 
to  me  more  than  once  in  his  humorous,  playful  manner: 
"  My  dear  brother,  I  could  easily  have  unsettled  you  in 
the  Eleventh  Church  when  I  was  preaching  there,  and 
you  were  in  Europe.  '  Possession  is  nine  points  in  the 
law,'  and  I  had  possession  while  you  were  so  far  away 
that  you  could  not  interfere;"  and  then  he  would  add 
seriously,  "  I  should  have  despised  myself  while  I  lived 
had  I  not  been  true  to  the  trust  you  reposed  in  me." 
I  may  add  that  absent  pastors  do  not  always  find  such 
fidelity  in  those  whom  they  leave  behind. 

Mr.  Dickerson  bought  the  Christimi  Chronicle  and 
became  its  editor  and  publisher.  He  was  engaged  upon 
this  when  he  began  to  preach  for  the  church  in  Wil- 
mington, and  continued  it  until  he  was  satisfied  that  it 
was  safe  for  him  to  settle  as  pastor,  and  devote  himself 
wholly  to  the  work  of  the  ministry.  With  his  surrender 
of  the  Chronicle  he  closed  his  labors  in  his  native  city, 
henceforth   to  take   his  place  in  the  ranks  of  settled 


88 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


i 


pastors,  leaving  behind  him  a  great  number  of  warmly 
attached  friends,  not  a  few  of  whom  preceded  him  to 
the  heavenly  land. 

I  have  thus  complied  with  your  request  to  furnish 
you  something  of  the  life  of  your  lamented  husband  in 
Philadelphia,  for  the  memorial  volume.  You  are  at  per- 
fect liberty  to  use  it  or  not  as  will  best  serve  your 
purpose.  Yours  fraternally, 

D.  B.  Cheney. 

Chicago,  October  5,  1877. 


/ 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LAST  YEAR   IN  PHILADELPHIA. 

In  the  year  1859,  Dr.  Cheney,  Mr.  Dickerson's 
pastor,  was  given  leave  of  absence  for  six  months 
to  travel  in  Europe,  a  committee  being  appointed  to 
procure  supplies  for  the  pulpit  during  his  absence, 
at  the  expense  of  the  church.  Mr.  Dickerson,  effi- 
cient as  he  was,  and  a  favorite  in  the  church,  was 
made  chairman  of  the  committee.  To  relieve  him, 
however,  of  care.  Dr.  Cheney  himself,  before  his 
departure,  saw  a  number  of  the  Philadelphia  pastors 
and  engaged  a  supply  for  nearly  three  months  of 
the  time,  Mr.  Dickerson  being  expected  to  notify 
them  of  the  day  of  their  expected  service,  and  for 
the  remaining  period  of  the  pastor's  absence  to  take 
himself  the  responsibility  of  procuring  the  required 
supplies.  It  happened  that,  soon  after  the  previously 
engaged  sources  of  supply  had  been  exhausted, 
there  came  a  time  when  no  preacher  could  be  found 
for  the  coming  Sabbath.  Plenty  of  clergymen 
"looked  in"  at  the  editor's  office  during  the  week, 
and  assisted  him  abundantly  in  consuming  with 
pleasant  chat  his  valuable  time,  but  none  of  them 
was  found  "  available  "  for  his  needs  on  the  Sabbath, 
as  each  had  his  own  flock  to  look  after.  On  Saturday 
afternoon  Mr.  Dickerson  found  himself  obliged,  as 
the  only  solution  of  the  problem,  to  face  the  alter- 

89 


90 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


native  of  entering  the  pulpit  himself.  This  was  not 
exactly  what  he  had  bargained  for  with  the  absent 
pastor:  long  disuse  had  made  preaching  look  for- 
midable,  and  wellnigh  an  impossibility.  But  there 
was  no  escaping  it.  He  went  home  Saturday 
afternoon,  made  his  appeal  for  help  to  the  well- 
known  and  faithful  Helper,  selected  for  the  next 
day  and  re-studied  a  couple  of  sermons  of  which  he 
had  prepared  the  outline  in  former  years,  and  on  the 
following  dav,  with  a  brave  but  trembling  heart, 
ascended  to  the  pulpit.  His  Helper  did  not  fail  him : 
the  church  were  so  delighted  with  the  sermons  that 
they  immediately  voted  to  request  him  to  continue 
to  preach  for  them  until  their  pastor's  return.  He 
complied  with  their  request,  and  thus  re-entered,  in 
a  providential  way  that  seemed  accidental,  that  form 
of  Christian  work  which  had  formerly  been  the 
object  of  his  warmest  aspirings ;  which  for  years  past 
he  had  looked  upon  regretfully  as  a  closed  Eden ; 
but  which  from  this  time  was  to  be  the  joyful 
occupation,  and  to  task  the  highest  energies,  of  his 
life.  The  sermons  which  he  preached  on  this 
occasion  had  been  roughly  sketched  at  Hamilton, 
and  in  breadth  and  power  fell  far  below  multitudes, 
perhaps  the  average,  of  his  sermons  in  later  years ; 
yet  we  venture  to  give  a  few  paragraphs  from  them, 
as  furnishing  some  idea  of  the  impressiveness  of 
thought  and  diction,  which  so  many  delightedly 
remember  as  associated  with  an  equally  earnest  and 
impressive  delivery.  In  his  highest  and  best  moods 
Mr.  Dickerson  not  unfrequently  became  in  the 
pulpit  almost  sublimely  eloquent. 


LAST  YEAR  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


91 


' 


One  of  the  two  sermons  was  from  the  text,  "  In 
the  place  where  the  tree  falleth  there  it  shall  be ;" 
the  other  from  the  words,  ^'  I  would  not  live  alway." 
In  the  former,  after  describing  a  forest  where  were 
living  and  dead  trees,  some  decaying  where  they 
had  fallen,  he  says  :  *'  Such  is  the  beautiful  figure' in 
which  inspiration  has  stated  the  solemn  and  momen- 
tous truth  of  our  text.  And  what  is  that  truth  ?  It 
is  this :  Men  are  likened  unto  trees,  and  death  the 
power  whicli  fells  them.  And  as  men  die,  so  they 
must  forever  be.  Whatever  the  moral  condition  of 
a  man  when  he  falls  in  death,  that  will  be  his  moral 
condition  forever.  *  *  *  This  was  the  sublime 
truth  enunciated  to  the  rapt  evangelist  when  the 
apocalyptic  angel  cried,  ''  He  that  is  filthy,  let  him 
be  filthy  still ;  and  he  that  is  holy,  let  him  be  holy 
still."     *     *     * 

Then  he  unfolds  the  truth  of  the  text  under  two 
propositions : 

1st.  The  tendencies  of  man's  moral  nature  are 
downward  ;  and 

2d.  That  death  in  no  way  affects  the  operation 
of  this  law :  that  it  can  neither  stop  nor  change  its 
action.     In  the  summing  up,  he  says : 

If  a  person  die  whose  nature  has  been  renewed  by 
divine  grace,  then  forever  will  this  new  principle  be 
developing  in  that  soul  in  higher  and  still  higher  forms 
of  moral  perfection.  But  if  the  contrary  be  true,  what 
then?  If  man's  nature  is  downward,  if  death  does  not 
change  that  tendency,  then  if  death  overtakes  us  while 
yet  in  our  sins,  eternally  beyond  the  grave  will  our 
natures  be  unrenewed,  and  that  law  of  degenerate  pro- 


h 


92 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


I 


gression  be  in  perpetual  exercise.  We  are  not  speaking 
of  the  eternal  putiiskment  of  the  wicked,  but  of  their 
eternal  enmity  to  God.  That  enmity  is  gross  during  their 
lives,  but  at  death  it  begins  a  career  of  unrestrained  and 
increasing  perversity,  growing  more  and  more  bitter, 
more  and  more  malignant  as  the  ages  of  eternity  unfold. 
But  think  you  there  can  be  happiness  for  such  a  spirit  in 
anv  realm  of  Heaven?  Would  not  such  a  spirit  make 
Hell  its  chosen  hiding-place?  Say  you  such  a  soul  will 
be  punished,  but  not  forever;  it  will  be  purged,  and 
purified  and  fitted  for  Heaven!  Sad  and  fatal  delusion! 
Tell  me,  if  ye  can,  how  long  will  be  the  duration  of 
such  an  experiment?  Unfit  for  Heaven  at  death,  the 
soul  will  be  turned  into  perdition — and,  if  at  death 
deserving  of  flames,  and  if  in  its  nature  becoming  worse 
and  worse,  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  in  the  gulf  of  the 
lost,  tell  me,  I  pray  you,  how  long  this  terrible  progress 
in  all  that  is  vile  shall  deepen  its  guilt  before  it  will  be 
pure  enough  for  Heaven?  How  long  shall  the  banished 
spirit  urge  its  downward  flight  in  the  deep,  dark,  bottom- 
less abyss  before  it  shall  reach  the  shining  portals  of  the 
heavenly  city? 

No,  no,  no;  Mercy,  blessed  messenger  of  Jesus,  knows 
no  such  way  to  pilot  souls  to  Heaven  as  takes  them 
through  the  burning  tide  of  some  future  Hell!  On  this 
side  the  grave  she  calls  them  with  the  sweetest  tones;  all 
the  day  long  she  pleads,  and  her  mantle  is  wet  with  the 
damps  of  the  night,  and  the  dew  of  the  morning. 

Cold  mountains  and  the  midnight  air, 
Witness  the  fervor  of  her  prayer. 

She  cries  after  men  down  to  the  very  borders  of  the 
grave,  but  there  she  pauses— they  pass  beyond  her  reach 
— she  looks  after  them  across  the  dreary  waste  of  eternal 
years — she  weeps— but  can  not  follow!     All  her  many 


7 


LAST  YEAR  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


93 


4 


gracious  influences  which  rendered  life  one  long 
continued  season  of  pleading  and  restraint  she  now 
withdraws  forever.  Oh,  dear  sinner,  remember,  remem- 
ber, that  when  the  second  death  shall  stretch  its  pall 
over  thy  condemned  spirit,  all  these  calls  and  oppor- 
tunities of  mercy  thou  wilt  forever  miss!  In  vain  wilt 
thou  look  through  the  gathering  gloom  for  some  ray  of 
light.  The  heavens  which  stretched  above  thine 
earthly  pathway,  were  radiant  with  ten  thousand  starry 
hopes,  but  now  every  star  has  faded  from  the  sky  — 
and  when  at  death  the  last  one  set — hope  for  thy  soul 
went  out  forever. 

I  can  see  him  as  with  a  sad  face  he  stated  these 
solemn  truths,  and  then  his  countenance  brightening, 
with  a  beaming,  winning  smile,  he  said : 

But,  thanks  be  unto  God,  ye  are  not  dead,  but 
living.  Still  it  is  a  time  of  hope  ;  still  unto  you 
the  messages  of  mercy  are  given,  and  Jesus  stands  with 
open  and  inviting  arms.  Will  you  not  fly  from  sin  and 
danger,  and  through  Jesus  secure  the  hopes  which  now 
hang  suspended  upon  the  brittle  thread  of  time?  Oh, 
decide  wisely,  decide  now!  For  while  death  5ea/6^  our 
opportunities,  the  Spirit  sometimes  leaves  us  eve?i  before 
ice  die,  and  we  thus  anticipate  our  doom  before  we  hear 
its  awful  decisions  thundering  in  our  guilty  ears.  How 
fearful  will  be  that  trumpet  blast  as  the  scenes  of  the 
judgment  close,  and  the  wicked  dead  shall  hear  the  angel 
cry,  as  they  rise  from  impenitent  graves,  "  He  that  is 
filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  still."  And  the  ages,  as  they 
roll  their  unending  cycles  through  eternity,  shall  but  echo 
God's  approval  of  the  verdict,  "  Filthy  still,  filthy  still;  " 
while  the  tormented  spirit,  ever  conscious  of  its 
increasing  and  malignant  hate  of  all  things  pure   and 


94 


JAMES  S.  DTCKERSON. 


^ 


LA.ST  YEAR  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


95 


beautiful  and  true,  will  mutter  with  weeping   and  wail- 
ing its  verdict  and  its  doom,  "  Filthy  still,  filthy  still!  " 

In  the  sermon  from  the  text  ''  I  would  not  live 
alway,"  after  describing  Job,  his  afflictions  and  his 
patience,  he  divides  his  subject  thus,  under  the  gen- 
eral theme,  ''Why  is  it  that  the  Christian  often 
exclaims — I  would  not  live  alway?  " 

1.  This  is  a  life  of  sin. 

2.  This  is  a  life  of  trouble. 

3.  This  is  a  life  of  labor  and  toil. 

4.  Death  has  no  terrors. 

5.  Finally,  his  reward  is  in  the  life  to  come. 

We  quote  from  under  the  two  last  heads,  one  of 
which,  where  he  describes  the  death  of  the  Christian, 
was  prophetic  of  his  own. 

4.  Death  has  no  terrors. 

To  the  natural  heart,  death  is  indeed  the  King  of 
Terrors;  among  all  the  ranks  of  the  ungodly,  none  can 
be  found  who  dares  to  meet  him.  At  his  approach  the 
lips  of  the  boldest  blasphemers  turn  white  with  fear;  the 
stoutest  knees  will  tremble,  the  stoutest  heart  will  quail. 
AH  that  appertains  to  death  is  regarded  with  instinctive 
(]read — the  death  chamber,  the  shroud,  the  coffin,  the 
mournful  knell,  all  strike  apprehension  to  the  uncon- 
verted soul.  And  it  is  not  str<uuje !  Who  would 
not  tremble  as  he  sees  the  last  coil  of  time  running  out 
that  is  to  leave  him  amid  a  starless  night,  adrift,  upon  the 
trackless,  shoreless  ocean— Eternity  !  Who  would  not 
tremble  as  he  is  about  to  approach  that  great  white 
throne,  and  sees  already  the  lightnings  of  God's  wrath, 
and  hears  ringrinsc  in  his  ears  eternity's  awful  knell — 
depart!  depart!      Yes,  yes,  the  impenitent  sinner  may 


:/■ 


i 


' 


well  tremble  here!  In  the  enjoyment  of  God's  bless- 
ings, in  life  and  in  health,  he  could  put  on  courage,  and 
set  all  irood  influences  at  defiance  ;  could  smile  at  the 
entreaties  of  God's  people  and  make  their  prayers  a 
jest  ;  and  could  resist  with  much  apparent  boldness 
God's  pleading  Spirit.  But  when  death  approaches,  he 
cries  aloud  with  alarm;  he  shrieks  in  terror  ;  his 
affrighted  and  guilty  spirit  flutters  like  a  bird  in  the 
hands  of  the  fowler,  and  he  dies  in  fear.  But  who 
is  this  that  amid  all  the  solemnity  of  life's  last  scene, 
when  the  dying  hour  is  almost  spent,  when  earth  is  re- 
ceding from  his  view,  and  the  realities  of  eternity  are 
dimly  reflected  in  his  glassy  eye;  who  is  this  that 
whispers,  "Death  has  no  terrors?"  Who  is  this  that 
grows  calm,  while  others  mourn  and  are  troubled?  Who 
is  this  that  smiles,  while  others  broken-hearted  weep  in  an 
agony  of  grief  ?  Need  I  say,  it  is  the  Christ-pardoned, 
Christ-supported  one?  To  him  death  is  a  vanquished 
foe;  dying  is  the  last  struggle  which  secures  the 
crown;  the  cutting  of  the  cord  which  binds  his  fluttering 
spirit,  struggling  to  be  free  ;  the  crossing  of  the  Jordan 
to  "that  happy  land  of  pure  delight,  where  saints 
immortal  reign;"  and  amid  the  overflowings  of  the 
cold  waters,  he  shouts  triumphantly,  "  I  would  not  live 
alway." 

5.     But  finallv,  his  reward  is  in  the  life  to  come. 

Although  the  true  and  faithful  Christian  is  abundantly 
repaid  even  in  this  life  for  all  the  sacrifices  he  is  called 
upon  to  make,  he  is  taught  to  expect  hereafter  the  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  The 
heaven  of  his  hopes  stands  ever  before  the  eye  of  his 
faith,  as  did  Canaan  in  all  its  varied  loveliness  before  the 
ravished  eyes  of  Moses,  as  from  the  summits  of  Pisgah 
he  wishfully  looked  forth. 


d 


96 


JAMES  8.  DICKERSON. 


We  have  spoken  of  this  life  as  one  of  sin,  but  the 
Christian's  life  to  come  is  one  of  perfect  holiness.  All 
the  sinful  propensities  of  our  nature  which  here  are  the 
occasion  of  so  much  pain,  will  there  be  purged,  and  the 
motives  and  emotions  of  the  soul  will  be  of  the  purest 
and  loftiest  nature.  The  service  of  God,  so  imperfect  on 
earth,  will  be  exchanged  for  the  purer  and  nobler 
employment  of  the  redeemed  in  the  presence  of 
Jeliovah  ;  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  that  celestial  empire 
will  be  engaged  in  them  ;  their  eyes  will  no  more  see 
sin,  nor  their  hearts  feel  its  anguish.  Sin  can  never 
enter  there,  but  perfect  holiness  shall  reign  forever  and 
ever. 

We  have  said  that  this  life  is  one  of  trouble;  the  life 
beyond  is  to  the  Christian  infinite  in  its  enjoyments. 
All  tears  will  there  be  wiped  away,  no  trouble  there — 
no  partings  —  no  bereavements  —  no  bitter  disap- 
pointments —  no  sad  regrets.  *  *  *  '^q  jarring 
word  will  be  .heard  in  all  their  acclamations  of 
praise  ;  no  discordant  note  in  all  their  songs  of 
joy.  But  noblest,  richest,  rarest  pleasure  of  them  all, 
Christ  Jesus  will  be  there^  Christ  the  glorified,  and 
Christ  the  triumphant.  But  will  He  then  remember 
and  love  His  earth-born  people?  When  on  His  glorious 
and  all  -  resplendent  throne,  when  all  the  myriads  of 
angels,  the  cherubim  and  the  seraphim,  the  flaming 
spirits  of  His  august  court,  the  countless  ranks  and 
armies  of  the  skies  are  about  Him  as  a  pavilion,  will  He 
then  remember  me?  a  poor  sinner  of  earth,  saved  only 
by  His  extremest  grace!  O,  yes,  oh,  yes!  and  as  His  e3'e 
of  love  shall  fall  on  me,  and  as  he  hears  mv  feeble  crv — 
hushed  will  be  the  rustling  of  angelic  wings,  hushed 
their  voice  of  praise,  hushed  every  echoing  harp,  and 
Heaven  shall  be  still.     Then  in  His  presence,  at  his  feet, 


LAST  YEAR  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


97 


'\ 


will  I,  as  a  thousand   times  before,  repeat  my   simple 

prayer, 

Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  Thy  blood  was  shed  for  me, 
And  that  Thou  bidst  me  come  to  Thee, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come,  1  come ! 

Then    when    my    Christ   shall    say,    "  Come    in,  thou 
blessed  of  the  Lord,"  the  listening  host  shall  shout  a 
glad  "  Amen,"  and  Heaven  shall  be  joyful  in  its  praise 
of  that  grace  which  could  save  a  wretch  like  me.     Such 
a    welcome,    brethren    beloved,    awaits    us   all.     How 
natural  and  how  delightful  to  anticipate  the  crowning 
glory  of  that  expected  hour  !       We  have  spoken  of  the 
present  as  a  life  of  toil  ;  that  upon   which  we   hope   to 
enter,  is  one  of  everlasting  rest.     Not  of  indolence  or 
sloth,  but  of  happy  exemption  from  wearisome  labor  and 
exhausting  toil.      The   powers  of   the  soul  will   all   be 
enlisted,  but  in  that  alone  which  will  contribute  to  its 
highest  development  and  its  greatest  felicity.     He  who 
from  the  heights  of  Heaven  looks  back  upon  earth  will 
remember  it  as  the   place  where  his  work  was  finished. 
When    there,  all  was    labor   and    toil,  but    when  earth 
passed  away,  those   labors  ceased.     The  good  seed  had 
been  sown;  the  harvests  of  redemption   had  been  gath- 
ered, until    the    millennial    splendors    burst    upon   the 
astonished    world,    and  angels   shouted  their   "Harvest 
Home."     But  now  the   tired  workman  may  rest  within 
the  garner  of  his  Lord,  and  enjoy  the  full  fruition  of  his 
earthly  toil. 

Is  this  then  the  Christian's  prospect,  the  Christian's 
hope,  the  Christian's  rich  and  sure  reward?  O,  how  can 
he  but  anticipate  and  long  for  it?  And  how  delightful 
and  tranquilizing  must  the  influence  of  this  expected 
heritage  be  upon   his  spirit  while  suffering  the  bondage 


98 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


of  time  !  Oh,  my  brethren,  let  us  not  cling  so  eagerly 
to  life  ;  let  us  not  stand  so  in  fear  of  death  ;  let  us  not 
hesitate  at  sacrifices,  or  shrink  from  the  labors  and 
duties  of  time,  but  take  hold  of  and  by  faith  enjoy  all 
that  is  laid  up  in  store  for  us  through  the  abounding 
mercy  and  goodness  of  the  Saviour  !  Thus  will  our 
affections  be  weaned  away  from  eartli  and  placed  on 
Heaven,  and  on  Him  whose  presence,  majesty,  and  love 
lend  to  Heaven  all  its  charms  ! 

To  the  satisfaction  and  indeed  the  delight  of  the 
church,  Mr.  Dickerson  continued  his  preaching  for 
them  until  the  return  of  Dr.  Cheney,  who  then 
playfully  informed  him  that  he  considered  there 
was  little  chance  for  himself,  as  his  temporary  sub- 
stitute had  entirely  led  captive  the  affections  of  the 
people.  Mr.  Dickerson,  however,  was  not  a  man  to 
encourage  division  ;  the  returned  pastor  readily  re- 
sumed his  place  in  the  hearts  of  his  people ;  and 
Mr.  Dickerson,  cheerfully  resigning  his  lieutenancy, 
found  ample  occasion  for  continuing  his  preaching 
in  pulpits  temporarily  vacated  through  the  sickness 
or  absence  of  their  habitual  occupants. 

Soon  after  this,  in  1860,  he  received  an  invitation 
to  supply  the  pulpit  of  the  Second  Baptist  Church 
in  Wilmington,  Del.,  for  six  months.  As  Wilming- 
ton was  but  an  hour's  ride  from  Philadelphia,  and 
as  he  had  experienced  no  apparent  ill  effect  in  his 
throat  and  lungs  during  the  several  months  of  his 
recent  preaching,  he  accepted  the  invitation.  He 
preached  for  the  church  regularly,  except  when  occa- 
sionally giving  way  to  persons  who  came  to  preach 
aa  candidates,  but  with  no  thought  of  appearing  as 


^ 


LAST  YEAU  IX   PHILADELPHIA. 


99 


^ 


a  candidate  himself.     He  found,  indeed,  to  his  sur- 
prise that,  notwithstanding  the  expressed  judgments 
of   physicians  that   the    state    of  his  throat   would 
never  allow  of  his  permanent  public  speaking,  he 
yet  did   not  suffer  sensibly  from  the    practice,  but 
sometimes    found    himself    rather    better    ''  for   a 
good   preach,"   and   on   the   whole    seemed   to   be 
gaining   in  health  and   vigor.      Matters   at   length 
came  to  a  decision.     Toward   the  close  of  the  year 
the  Wilmington  Church  held  a  meeting  to  discuss 
the  claims  of  candidates,    but  found  none   among 
those    who    had  appeared  before    them  whom  they 
could  unite  in  calling.     At  length  the  question  arose 
whether  it  might  not  be  possible  to  induce  him  who 
was  now  filling  their  pulpit   temporarily  to  change 
his   relation    into    that    of  permanent    pastor,   the 
opinion  being  expressed  that  they  could  unanimously 
vote  for  him,  as  he  was  universally  loved,  and  his 
preaching  was  universally  acceptable.     The  strong- 
est doubts,  however,  were  expressed  as  to  thepossi- 
bility  of  his  being  obtained,  as  it  was  well  known 
that  he  had  relinquished   his  purpose  of  preaching, 
and  taken  his  present  position,  under  very  decided 
medical  advice.     The  church  adjourned  its  meeting 
therefore  with  little  or  no  hope  of  securing  him. 

On  the  next  day  as  Mr.  Dickerson  was  on  his  way 
to  Wilmington  he  fell  in  with  one  of  the  most  influ- 
ential members  of  the  Wilmington  Church,  who 
informed  him  of  the  discussion  of  the  night  previ- 
ous, and  asked  him  if  he  would  consent  that  his 
name  should  come  before  them  for  the  pastorate. 
He  replied  that  preaching  was  his  delight  beyond 


t 


100 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


any  other  work  which  he  could  engage  in,  yet  he 
should  hesitate  to  sell  his  paper,  as  in  case  of  failure 
it  might  be  difficult  for  him  to  re-establish  himself 

in  business. 

"But,"  replied  his  friend,  "you  have  been 
preaching  for  us  almost  regularly  for  six  months, 
and  you  yourself  declare  your  health  to  be  better 
than  a  year  ago.  What  reason  for  supposing 
that  if  you  exchange  your  work  as  editor  for  that 
of    the    pastorate,   your    health   will   be   likely   to 

suffer?" 

"  That  is  a  new  view,"  said  Mr.  Dickerson,  "  and 
something  for  me  to  think  about.  It  may  be  that 
God  is  opening  the  way  to  me  for  a  life  of  preach- 
ing." 

He  did  think  about  it,  and  so  did  the  church  ;  or 
rather  with  no  further  thought  about  it  than  simply 
to  find  him  not  indisposed  to  listen,  they  gave  him, 
Dec.  10th,  1860,  a  unanimous  call,  and  he  became 
their  pastor.  He  accepted  it  in  January,  the  accept- 
ance to  take  effect  March  1,  1861.  He  had  the 
privilege  of  retaining  for  a  year  his  newspaper,  and 
spending  three  days  of  the  week  in  Philadelphia. 
His  income  from  the  paper  was  $1,600.00  in 
gold,  and  at  the  close  of  the  year  he  relinquished 
this  for  a  salary  of  $1,000.00  in  currency— not,  from 
a  wordly  point  of  view,  a  very  profitable  exchange. 
But  he  sought  —  and  we  doubt  not  obtained — 
the  "  durable  riches"  of  righteousness,  the  treasure 
in  heaven  that  fadeth  not  away.  The  salary  he 
received  during  this  period,  however,  he  paid  over  to 


LAST  YEAR  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


101 


J 


Rev.  Dr.  J.  Newton  Brown,  who  became  associate 
editor  of  the  paper.  His  arrangements  being  finally 
completed,  he  removed,  in  the  Spring,  with  his  family 
to  Wilmington,  and  assumed  the  pastorate  of  the 
Second  Baptist  Church  in  that  city. 


i 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BESIDENCE   IN   WlLlvnNGTON. 

Mr.  Dickerson  had  been  but  a  short  time  in  Wil- 
mington before  it  became  evident,  both  to  himself  and 
others,  that  Providence  had  ordered  the  steps  which 
brought  him  thither,  and  was  vindicating  and  stamp- 
ing with  its  seal  of  approval,  that  crowning  purpose 
of  his  life  which  had  linked  it  with  the  ministry 
of  the  gospel.  He  speedily  became  the  most  popular 
preacher  in  the  place  ;  his  Sabbath  audiences  in- 
creased constantly  ;  the  Sunday-school  nearly  dou- 
bled itself ;  and  he  was  called  on  to  speak  on  all 
Sunday-school  anniversaries,  and  other  occasions  of 
public  and  religious  interest. 

Mr.  Dickerson  had,  however,  other  duties  which, 
if,  to  the  Christian  minister,  less  ultimately  and 
transcendently  important,  were  of  even  more  obvious 
and  pressing  public  interest.  To  one  who  marked 
carefully  the  course  and  issues  of  events,  it  could 
scarcely  be  doubtful  that  the  hand  of  God  had 
guided  him  to  Wilmington,  not  only  to  promote 
great  spiritual,  but  also  great  public  and  patriotic 
interests.  The  country  was  in  the  agony  of  an 
opening  civil  war ;  the  powerful  gripe  of  a  great 
armed  rebellion  was  fastening  itself  upon  her  throat, 
and  under  the  alleged  right  of  secession  the  South- 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


103 


i 


ern  States  were  rapidly  banding  themselves   against 
the  Union.     Mr.  Dickerson    had    scarcely    been  a 
month  in  Wilmington  when  the  cannon  fired  upon 
Fort  Sumter  plunged  the  nation  into  the  dire  reality 
of  civil  war.     Delaware    was   a   slave    State,   and, 
although  in  the  northern  county  of  Newcastle  there 
was  a  small  Republican  majority,  and  the  population 
was  less  intensely  Southern   in  feeling  and  sympathy 
than  in  the  middle  and  southern  counties,  still  Wil- 
mington had  many  prominent  citizens  who  were  out- 
spoken in  their  advocacy  of  State   sovereignty  and 
slavery.     So  pronounced  was  this  feeling  in  the  com- 
munity that  amidst  the  excitement  consequent  upon 
the  fall   of  Sumter  many  loyal  men  were  intimidated 
into  silence  by  the  open  sympathy  of  influential  and 
wealthy  citizens  with  the  rebellion.     It  was  not  so 
with  Mr.  Dickerson.     Young  in  years  and  small  in 
stature  ;  gentle,  genial  and  kindly  in  manner   and 
disposition,  he  would   have   been   judged   by   those 
who  knew  him  superficially  as  likely  to  be  conserva- 
tive in  temper,  shrinking  from  the  advocacy  of  un- 
popular views,   and  timid  in   resistance  to  the  en- 
croachments of  wrong.     No  opinion   could  be  more 
erroneous.     His  small  body  enshrined  the  spirit  of 
a  hero  ;  his  genial  manners,  that  seemed  gentle  as  a 
summer  breeze,  were  united  with  a  principle  as  sturdy 
as  the  oak  that  defies  the  tempest ;  and  he  speedily 
came  to  be  recognized  as  among  the  boldest  men  in 
the  State,  unflinchingly  sustaining  the  cause  of  the 
Union,  advocating  loyalty  to  the  Government,  and 
inspiring  with  its  spirit  his  fellow-citizens.     On  Fri- 
day, April  12th,  Fort  Sumter  was  attacked,  and  on  the 


104 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


105 


following  Saturday  such  a  wave  of  excitement  swept 
over  the  land  as  had  probably  not  been  known  since 
the  days  of  the  Revolution.  On  the  afternoon  of 
that  day  Mr.  Dickerson  went  to  his  study  with  a 
heart  fired  with  loyal  zeal,  and  fully  alive  to  the 
character  and  magnitude  of  the  struggle  that  had 
commenced  between  freedom  and  slavery,  loyalty 
and  treason,  government  and  anarchy.  He  laid 
aside  the  sermon  which  he  had  prepared  for  the  com- 
in^r  Sabbath,  and  made  full  notes  of  a  discourse  on 
"  The  Duties  of  the  Hour."  In  the  evening  he  saw 
some  of  his  members,  who  were  loyal  to  the  coun- 
try, and  informed  them  of  the  topic  which  he  pro- 
posed to  discuss  on  the  morrow,  and  requested  that 
the  pulpit  might  be  wreathed  with  the  American 
flag.  Some  opposed  the  fulfilling  of  his  purpose ; 
others  were  favorable,  but  timid  ;  while  two  or  three 
were  willing,  at  the  hazard  of  whatever  sacrifice,  to 
stand  by  the  Government. 

It  was  quite  a  different  matter  in  a  city  hovering 
on  the  very  verge  of  secession,  and  with  a  large  and 
powerful  sentiment  outspoken  in  its  favor,  to  preach 
a  sermon  of  this  kind,  from  what  it  was  to  preach 
a  like  discourse  in  a  Northern  city.  Even  there  the 
patriotic  support  which  the  pulpit  rendered  to  the 
Government,  the  ready  zeal  with  which  the  great 
body  of  the  clergy  lent  their  powerful  influence  to 
the  cause  of  union  and  freedom,  was  by  no  means 
to  be  lightly  esteemed.  But  the  eloquence  that 
found  itself  borne  up,  inflamed,  and  even  anticipated, 
by  the  burning  enthusiasm  of  an  entire  congrega- 
tion, and  of  an  almost   unanimous  community,  had 


f 


J 


a  far  easier  task  than  that  which,  with  the  very 
billows  of  secession  dashing  angrily  around  it,  was 
poured  out  upon  a  timid,  half-hearted,  divided  con- 
gregation in  which  for  a  man  to  be  an  avowed  and 
unshaken  Unionist  was  to  be  consciously  a  hero,  and 


SECOND     BAPTIST     CHURCH, 

WILMINGTON,    DEL. 

possibly  a  martyr.  Such  were  the  elements  that 
surrounded  Mr.  Dickerson,  and  amidst  which  he 
instantly,  unflinchingly  and  unwaveringly  took  his 
stand  for  the  cause  in  which  he  deemed  were  bound 
up  the  best  interests  of  his  country,  A  few,  and 
but  a  few,  rallied  nobly  to  his  support.  Some  of  his 
members,  knowing  the  excitement  that  prevailed  in 


WBBBSSSSSmaB 


;£Qg  JAMES  S.  DICKERSOK 

the  community,  asked  him  if  he  woula  nke  to  have 
an  armed  guard  by  him  in  the  church.  He  dechned 
the  proposal,  preferring  to  trust  to  God  and  the  right 
for  his  protection.  Some  of  the  brethren,  however, 
without  his  knowledge,  arranged  that  an  armed  force 
should  be  present,  both  to  shield  him  from  attack, 
and  the  church  from  threatened  injury.  He  had  the 
theme  of  his  sermon  as  widely  advertised  as  possible, 
hoping  that  it  might  benefit  many  outside  of  his 
own  congregation. 

The  Sabbath  morning  came,  looked  forward  to  by 
many  with    great    trepidation.     A   large  assembly 
gathered  in  his  spacious  church,  and  in  the  words  of 
another,  ''  with   his  pulpit  decorated   with  the  Na- 
tional banner,  and  underneath  the  stars  and  stripes, 
he  met  the  great  throng  of  his  fellow-citizens  ;  and 
to  him  belongs  the  honor  of  sounding  out  the  first 
notes  of  loyalty  to  his  country's  flag   heard  in  the 
city   of  Wilmington.     His  great  popularity  at  the 
time,  and   his   words  of  ringing  eloquence  were  a 
mighty  power  for  leading  the   public  mind  in  the 
ricrht  direction."     He  stood  up  before  the  audience 
(^mong  whom  he  recognized  many  of  his   violent 
opposers),  and  with  his  clear,  musical,  ringing  voice 
read  the  hymn  beginning  : 

Lord,  while  for  all  mankind  we  pray, 

Of  every  clime  and  coast, 
O  hear  us  for  our  native  land, 

The  laud  we  love  the  most. 

After  an  earnest,  fervent  prayer  for  the  country, 
especially  in  this  dark  hour,  for  the  President  and 
all  in  authority,  for  the  people  that  they  might  stand 


KESIDEXCE  IN   WILMINGTON. 


107 


true  and  loyal,  and  cherish  the  heritage  bought  by 
the  blood  of  their  fathers,  another  stirring  hymn  was 
sung,  and  the  preacher  announced  as  his  text  Rom. 

xiii.  1. 

The  sermon  met  the  exigency ;  it  was  thrillingly 
eloquent.  A  few,  during  its  delivery,  evinced  their 
displeasure  by  leaving  the  house,  the  preacher  paus- 
ing in  recognition  of  their  withdrawal ;  but  no  dis- 
turbance occurred,  and  at  the  close  the  great  assem- 
bly rose,  and  in  billowy  chorus  sang,  as  they  had 
never  before  sung,  the  patriotic  hymn : 

My  country  'tis  of  thee, 
Laud  of  the  noble,  free, 
Of  thee  I  sing. 

We  have  enlarged  a  little  on  this  scene  as  strik- 
ingly illustrating  Mr.  Dickerson's  fearlessness  in 
time  of  danger,  and  his  fidelity  to  principle  under  the 
most  trying  circumstances,  as  well  as  because  it  ini- 
tiated a  series  of  loyal  and  valuable  services  ren- 
dered by  him  to  the  country  during  the  dark  times 
that  followed.  In  Wilmington  and  its  neighbor- 
hood, by  unceasing  patriotic  and  Christian  activity ; 
at  Fort  Delaware  ;  at  the  front  as  an  oflScer  of  the 
Christian  Commission  ; — everywhere  that  his  bodily 
or  mental  activity  could  make  itself  felt,  he  labored 
for  the  country  and  the  Union  until  the  war  closed 
in  the  crushing  of  the  rebellion.  His  service  was 
recognized  widely  in  the  State,  and  in  remoter  quar- 
ters from  which  he  dreamed  of  no  such  recognition, 
rhe  Government  learned  to  value  a  loyalty  to  the 
Union  at  once  so  staunch,  so  active,  and  so  judicious  ; 
and  President  Lincoln  paid  him  probably  no  more 


!H 


EH 


108 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


than   a  well  deserved  compliment  when    he    said, 
-  That  one,  little,  loyal,  clear-headed  Baptist  minis- 
ter of  Wilmington,  James  S.  Dickerson,  saved  Dela- 
ware to  the  Union."     Undoubtedly  the  little  State 
of  Delaware,  cast  into   the    doubtful  and  trembling 
balances  of  loyalty  and  secession,  could  scarcely  add 
a  preponderant  and   decisive  weight,  to   turn  the 
scale,  and  determine  the  issues  of  the  great  struggle. 
The  conflict  was  of  too   vast  proportions  for  that : 
half  a  continent  was  echoing  with  the  din  and  reel- 
ino-  under  the  terrific  shock  of  war.     Yet,  even  then 
it  was  no  little  thing  — no  small  service  rendered  to 
the  cause  of  right  and  truth,  to  hold  one  small  State 
firm  to  its  moorings  that  would  otherwise  have  been 
swept  ofP  by  the  raging  tide  of  secession.     This,  it 
is  scarcely  too  much  to  say,  Mr.  Dickerson  effected  ; 
and  when  it  shall  stand  registered  against  his  name 
that  in   this   dark  hour   of  his  country's  peril  and 
agony  "  he  did  what  he  could,"  that  what  he  could 
will   be   found   to  have   earned  him  from   all  who 
rightly  estimate  noble  deeds,  a  rich  reward  of  grati- 
tude and  praise.     We  may  add  that  Mr.  Dickerson's 
course  here  in  Delaware  in  this  political  crisis  was 
but  of  a  piece  with   his  entire    course    of  life   as   a 
Christian  minister.     He   did  not  reserve  either  his 
zeal,  his  boldness,  or  his  discretion,  for  a  war  of  but 
temporal,  even  though  national,  interests.     It  was  m 
the  great  battle   between  spiritual  truth  and  error, 
between  holiness   and  sin,  between  moral   freedom 
and  slavery,  between  the   powers  of  eternal  life  and 
eternal   death,    that  he   had  primarily  enlisted,  and 
that  his  supreme  energies  were   called  forth,  and  in 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


109 


behalf  of  these  great  interests  alike  now  and  in  all 
his  later  career,  his  devotion,  his  courage,  and  his 
prudence  never  failed.  Rarely,  very  rarely,  indeed, 
has  there  been  so  happily  constituted  a  nature.  The 
genial  and  frolicksome  companion  was  a  moral  hero. 
His  temper  was  buoyancy  itself,  his  heart  was  affec- 
tion, and  his  principles  were  adamant. 

For  months  after  the  preaching  of  this  sermon 
Mr.  Dickerson  labored  strenuously  to  instill  into  the 
minds  of  the  citizens  loyal  principles,  by  speeches  at 
mass-meetings,  by  editorials  in  the  Wilmington  pa- 
pers, and  by  other  means  which  his  earnest  patriotism 
was  fertile  in  suggesting.  Thus,  to  his  personal  in- 
fluence, his  magnetism,  and  his  eloquence,  it  was 
very  largely  owing  that  in  the  following  year,  in 
spite  of  the  fiercest  opposition,  a  Republican  Gover- 
nor was  elected  and  inaugurated. 

There  was  also  one  form  of  warlike  experience  of 
which  those  of  us  who  lived  far  in  the  Northern  in- 
terior can  have  little  conception  —  this  is  the  con- 
stant excitement  of  a  people  through  whose  city 
troops  were  almost  daily  passing  on  their  way  to  the 
field  of  action,  while  in  reflex  movement,  and  in  too 
nearly  equal  proportions,  trains  loaded  with  wounded 
men  on  their  way  back  to  Northern  hospitals, 
stopped  to  secure  for  their  suffering  occupants  rest 
and  refreshment.  Wilmington,  lying  nearly  on  the 
border  land  of  the  seat  of  war,  was  such  a  city. 
For  months  the  bell  of  the  City  Hall  rang  out  daily, 
and  sometimes  twice  in  the  day,  its  well-known  peal, 
summoning  the  people  to  gather  at  the  depot  with  hot 
coffee,  tea,  and  food  for  a  train  of  wounded  men  ex- 


110 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


Ill 


pected  shortly  to  arrive  ;  and  from  all  quarters  of  the 
city  of  some  twenty  thousand  inhabitants,  loyal  men, 
women,  and  children  were  seen  coming  with  their 
baskets  of  food  and  cans  of  hot  coffee,  to  comfort 
and  refresh  the  weary  travelers,  often  crowded  to- 
gether on  the  floors  of  cattle-cars,  often  mutilated, 
always  sufFering,  but  generally  patient,  cheerful,  and 
heroic.     Whatever  happened  to  be  cooked   in  the 
houses  for  family  use  was  at  once  taken  to  these  sol- 
diers, and  delegations  of  noble  women  came  with 
cordials,  bandages,   and  whatever  was   required  for 
their  solace  and  refreshment.     It  happened  that  on 
one  Sabbath  the  Court  House  bell  rang  out  just  as 
the  church  bells  were  summoning  the  people  to  the 
house  of  prayer.     The  call   of  the    former    was  of 
course   imperative  ;   the  church-goers,  taking  their 
nicely  prepared  Sunday  dinners,  turned  their  steps 
towards  the  depot,  and  works  of  necessity  and  mercy 
to  the  faint  and  suffering  were  undoubtedly  accepted 
on  high  in  place  of  the  pealing  anthem   and   the 
utterances  of  prayer  and  praise  in  the  great  congre- 
gation.    Audiences    in    the  house    of  worship   that 
morning  may  have  been -fit,"  but  they  certainly 
were    '^few."     Mr.   Dickerson    preached  to    about 
twenty  persons,  closed  the  service  shortly  after  eleven 
o'clock,  and  alike  the  pastor  and  his  fragment  of  an 
audience,  hastened  to  join  the  larger  body  of  good 
Samaritans  at   the   depot   in   offices  of  kindness  to 
these  sufferers  who,  by  more  than  the  ordinary  tie, 
were  their  ''neighbors." 

During  the  four  years,  from  1861  to  1865,  Mr. 


Dickerson  and  his  wife  were  constantly  active  in  de- 
vising and   carrying  out  plans  to   aid  the   soldiers. 
Mrs.   Dickerson  was   the  treasurer   of  a    society  of 
women  who  spent  much  time  in  preparing  for  them 
articles  of  clothing,  and  who  in  a  union  effort  worked 
assiduously  in  preparing  a  table  of  useful  and  beauti- 
ful articles  for  a  great  Sanitary  Fair  in  Philadelphia, 
in  which  Wilmington  was  most  handsomely  repre- 
sented.    Mr.  Dickerson  spent  much  time  in  visiting 
the    hospitals   in  Wilmington,  conversing   with   the 
soldiers,  giving  them  religious  counsel  and   reading, 
and  ministering  in  various  ways  to  their  personal 
comfort.     During  one  of  those  years  he,  with   Gov. 
Cannon  and  several  other  officials,  was  appointed  to 
escort  President  Lincoln  in  a  special  car  from  Wil- 
mington to  Philadelphia.     He  had  much  conversa- 
tion with  the  President  on  the  subject  of  the  war, 
and   the   latter   treated    him    alike    with    fraternal 
familiarity  and  as  an  honored  guest,    and   publicly 
recognized  the  valuable  service  which  he  had  ren- 
dered to  the  Government. 

But  while  Mr.  Dickerson's  entire  political  sym- 
pathies were  thus  enlisted  on  behalf  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  he  was  what  might  be  called  a  radical 
Republican,  as  a  Christian  minister  he  knew  no  po- 
litical or  party  lines.  To  all,  of  every  shade  of 
opinion,  he  was  equally  anxious  to  furnish  the  bread 
of  life.  Some  thousands  of  rebel  prisoners  were 
confined  in  the  neighboring  Fort  Delaware,  and  to 
these  he  desired  to  give  spiritual  comfort  and 
instruction.    He  asked,  therefore,  from  the  military 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


113 


'] 


\ 


112 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


commander  in  Wilmington  the  privilege  of  going  to 
the  Fort  for  this  purpose,  and  received  in  response 
the  following  document : 

Headquarters  Military  Commander, 
Wilmington,  Delaware,  July  22,  1803. 

Brigadier  General  A.  Schoepf, 

Comma?iding  Fort  Delaware. 
General  :    The   pious   zeal   of    the   Rev.  James   S. 
Dickerson  has  induced  him   to  ask  to  be   permitted  to 
visit  the  Fort,  and,  with  your  sanction,  offer  to  the  rebel 
prisoners  such  ghostly  comfort,  loyal  counsel,  and  reli- 
gious reading  as  may  best  conduce  to  their  temporal  and 
spiritual  welfare.     He  has  been  appointed  by  Col.  Mc- 
Comb  as  chaplain  to  his  regiment,  but  was  never  regu- 
larly mustered  into  service.     He  is  the  pastor  of  one  of 
the"  Baptist  churches  of  this  city,  and  a  gentleman  in 
whom  I  have  every  confidence,  and  for  whom  I  entertain 
sincere  respect.        Very  respectfully, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

Henry  B.  Judd, 

Major  U.  S.  Army  and  Military  Commander. 

On  Wednesday  Mr.  Dickerson  received  this  per- 
mission to  go  to  the  Fort,  and  on  Friday  he  went 
there,  remaining  until  the  following  .Tuesday.     He 
talked  with  very  many  of  the  prisoners,  gave  them 
good  counsel  and  good  reading,  and  held  one  ever- 
to-be-remembered  service  on  the  Sabbath.     There 
had  been    ten    thousand  prisoners   there;    withm 
a    short    period    three    thousand    of    the    number 
had    been    exchanged,    so    that    there    were    still 
seven    thousand   within  the   enclosure  of  the  fort, 
and     a    sadder-looking,     and     more     disconsolate 


company  could  scarcely  be  imagined.  On  Sunday, 
the  26th  of  July,  one  of  the  most  sultry  days  of  the 
season,  he  proposed  preaching  to  them  all,  but  on 
account  of  the  intense  heat  could  not  gather  them 
together  in  the  open  court  until  near  sunset.  As  they 
filed  into  the  enclosure  by  hundreds  until  about  seven 
thousand  men  wearing  the  gray  uniform  stood  ready 
to  hear  the  gospel  from  the  lips  of  an  anti-slavery,  Re- 
publican, loyal  minister,  the  commander  of  the  Fort 
stepped  up  to  Mr.  Dickerson  and  asked  him  how 
much  of  a  guard  he  would  like  about  him  as  he  went 
into  the  enclosure.     He  replied  :     . 

'^  I  don't  want  any  guard  at  all." 

''  You  know  where  you  are  going,  don't  you  — 
among  seven  thousand  rebels  ?" 

''  Yes,"  he  replied,  ''  but  I  am  not  going  there  as 
a  Northern  man  against  Southerners,  or  as  a  loyal 
man  against  rebels,  but  as  a  Christian  minister  to 
preach  the  gospel  of  Christ.  Just  send  in  a  big  dry- 
goods  box  that  I  can  stand  on,  so  that  they  can  see 
and  hear  me,  and  that  is  all  I  want." 

The  box  was  carried  in.  and  Mr.  Dickerson 
climbed  upon  it.  Before  he  began  to  preach  he  told 
the  prisoners  who  he  was,  a  minister  from  Wilming- 
ton, and  a  man  loyal  to  the  Union. 

''But,"  said  he,  "  I  have  not  come  to  talk  to  you 
as  rebels,  nor  to  discuss  political  questions.  State 
rights,  the  Confederacy  and  the  Government.  But, 
as  we  are  all  rebels,  both  the  blue  coats  and  the  gray 
ones,  the  Northerners  and  the  Southerners,  against 
the  Lord  of  Hosts  and  His  government,  I  have  come 
to  tell  you  how  you  can  be  reinstated  in  His  favor, 


t  \ 


114 


JAMES  S.  DICKEKSON. 


become  His  willing  subjects,  and,  enlisting  in  the 
army  of  King  Jesus,  whose  armies  are  the  only  ones 
that  are  victorious  over  every  foe,  come  off  con- 
querors at  last." 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  '4et  us  sing  together  one  or 
two  sweet  hymns  in  which  we  can  all  join,  which  you 
have  heard  many  a  time  in  your  Southern  homes, 
and  sung  perhaps  by  your  own  happy  firesides.  I 
have  chosen  those  which  I  think  you  will  know,  and 
now  let  everyone  that  can  sing  join  with  us  in  that 
grand  old  hymn  '  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul.'  " 

He  commenced  it,  while  the  men,  many  of  them 
with  husky  voices  and  tear-filled  eyes  joined  with 
him,    even  to  the  remotest   lines  of  the    assembly. 
He  then  gave  out  another,  "There  is  a  fountain 
filled  with  blood,"  which    they  sang  most  heartily. 
He  then  preached  to  them  a  plain  and  practical  ser- 
mon from  the  text  ''  There  is  joy  in  the  presence  of 
the  Angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth." 
His  power  of  graphic  description,  and  familiar  and 
forcible   illustration  ;  his   fervid  earnestness   united 
with  a  graceful  and  impressive   elocution,  sent  the 
great  truths  which  he   uttered   right   home  to  the 
hearts  of  the  hearers.     The  great  audience  listened 
thrilled  and  spell-bound  to  the  close,  and  to  the  final 
appeal  in  which  he  pleaded  with  them  to  forsake  the 
service  of  sin  and  enlist  under   t)ie  banner  of  the 
cross,    thus    bringing    joy    alike    to    the    heavenly 
hosts,  and  to  many  dear  ones  far  away,  who  might 
even  then  be  praying  at  their  bereaved  hearths  for 
those  who  were  exiled   at  once  from  their   earthly 
and   their    heavenly   home.     Many  of  the  hearers 


? 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


115 


melted  into  tears,  and  when  he  asked  that  all  those 
who  loved  the  Savior  and  were  enlisted  in  his  ser- 
vice should  raise  their  hands,  hundreds  were  up-r 
lifted  ;  and  when  again  lie  asked  that  all  who  would 
wish  to  begin  a  new  life,  and  take  Jesus  as  the  Cap- 
tain of  their  salvation,  should  raise  the  hand,  through 
the  whole  immense  throng  a  sea  of  upraised  hands 
could  be  discerned  amidst  the  gathering  shadows. 
They  then  sang  successively  the  hymns,  "  Come,  ye 
sinners,  poor  and  wretched,"  and  "  Children  of  the 
heavenly  King,"  (the  latter  always  a  favorite,)  after 
which  he  told  them  how  glad  he  was  of  this  oppor- 
tunity of  addressing  them,  thanked  them  for  their 
quietness  and  attention,  and,  promising  to  visit  them 
again,  proposed  that  they  unite  in  singing  the  hymn : 

All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name, 

Let  angels  prostrate  fall  ; 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem, 

And  crown  him  Lord  of  all  ; 

which  they  did,  and  from  multitudes  of  lips  and 
hearts  that  glorious  Coronation  hymn  floated  on  the 
evening  air  over  this  vast  assemblage  of  imprisoned 
exiles.  Many  hearts  were  drawn  towards  him  in 
tender  sympathy  ;  they  gathered  around  him  as  he 
descended  from  his  extemporized  pulpit  with  stream- 
ing eyes  and  grateful  words,  and  followed  him 
(whom  a  little  before  it  was  deemed  necessary  to 
shield  from  their  hostility  with  an  armed  guard) 
with  loving  looks  as  he  passed  from  the  enclosure  to 
his  apartments  in  the  Fort.  This  was  his  first  visit 
to  them,  but  by  no  means  his  last ;  although  he  did 
not  again  address  here  so  large  an  audience. 


116 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


117 


In  April  of  this  year  he  was  enrolled  as  chaplain 
of  the  Fifth  Delaware  Regiment.  The  next  year 
(May  12,  1864)  he  was  appointed  by  the  U.  S. 
Christian  Commission  to  go  to  the  front  to  care  for 
the  wounded  soldiers ;  and  he  spent  about  two 
months  in  and  near  Fredericksburg.  Some  few  of 
his  notes  it  may  be  interesting  to  glance  at,  which 
he  jotted  down  hastily  in  pencil,  wherever  it  hap- 
pened, in  the  hospital  or  in  the  field. 

Mrs.  Ehzabeth  H.  Stuart,  Jackson,  Michigan.  Hus- 
band wounded  on  the  right  side,  below  the  shoulder,  not 
very  seriously  —  is  getting  along  well.  Will  try  to  get 
a  furlough.     John  H.  Stuart. 

George  H.  Sears.  Write  to  Mrs.  Cor.  Sears,  his 
mother.''  N.  Adams,  Mass.  Wounded  in  left  thigh  — 
serious  but  not  dangerous,  on  Thursday,  the  l-2th  — get- 
ting  on  pretty  well— love  to  F.  and  M.  -  and  little 
Elk  and  Charlie.     Clings  to  his  hope  in  the  Savior. 

Write  to  Pike  Mills,  Potter  Co.,  Pa.  Elliot  Kilbourn, 
to  his  father,  Jno.  M.  Kilbourn  —  wounded  on  the  12th, 
right  leg  off  above  the  knee  -  getting  on  bravely  —  is 
in^'a  store.  Love  to  all,  especially  little  Hattie.  Won't 
be  discharged  till  my  time  is  up,  three  years  from  April. 
Don't  be  discouraged,  father. 

Samuel  Steen,  to  his  mother,  Mrs.  Ann  Steen,  New 
Castle  P.  O.,  Pa.  Right  leg  off  above  the  knee  —  look- 
ing brighter  to-day  —  tell  his  mother  and  brother  *'  don't 
fret  about  me"  (tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks). 

Asa  Hamrick  (rebel)  to  his  wife,  Mrs.  R.  C.  Hamrick, 
Shelby,  N.  C.  Was  wounded  in  the  left  leg  —  off  above 
the  knee.  Care  of  Gen.  Winder,  Richmond,  Va.  Is 
well  treated  and  getting  along. 

Ira  C.  Kitch,  to  his  wife,  Martha  J.  Kitch,  Anderson- 


ville.  Pa.  In  the  right  shoulder  —  serious,  but  not  dan- 
gerous -  getting  along  pretty  well.  Has  four  children 
—  his  hope  is  strong.  He  prays  for  you.  I  gave  him 
Ada's  Testament. 

Buried  to-day,  H.  W.  Reider,  1st  Reg.  Me.,  died  May 
22  18G4.  On  Monday  went  to  the  battle  ;.  on  Tuesday 
in  the  hospital  ;  on  Sunday  dead. 

S.  J.  Allen,  17th  Vermont  Reg't,  May  22,  1864.  Se- 
verely wounded  in  the  leg.  Alive  at  11:35  a.  m., 
buried  at  5  p.  m.     His  wife,  Mrs.  Mary    Allen,   Morris- 

ville,  Vt.  ,  ..      1^    w 

An  Indian,  from  Ottawa.     Simon  Geshey,  Co..  K.  ist 

Mich.    Sharpshooters,    and   Peter   Buckshot,    from    the 

Seven  Nations,  0th  N.  H. 

Scene  in  Quartermaster  Boyd's  tent,  when  the  mail 
came  in  with  letters  for  several  dead  officers  and  men. 

The  Indian  warrior.  Severely  wounded  in  the  ab- 
domen. I  talked  with  him,  and  he  said  with  clasped 
hands,  "  Yes,  the  Heavenly  God  "  —  and  died. 

"Rally  round  the  Flag."— The  poor  fellow,  under  the 
influence  of  chloroform,  after  a  little  wavering,  moaning 
and  groaning,  sang  "  Rally  round  the  flag,  boys,"  while 
the  amputation  was  going  on. 

The  1st  Maine,  and  also  a  Mass.  company,  in  magnih- 
cent  array  on  Monday,  and  on  Tuesday  broken,  wounded, 
dying  and  dead  in  our  hospitals. 

Belle  Plain.  A  man  struck  and  wounded  with  a  shell. 
He  asked  for  a  testament  and  gave  his  heart  to  God. 

Temperance.  The  man  whose  back  was  ploughed 
with  a  shell  from  his  shoulder  to  his  hip  —it  was  dressed 
without    a  murmur  or   a  groan— not  a  drop  of  whisky 

would  he  take.  , 

The  singing  up  stairs  in  the  hospital.  Hearing  the 
sweet  strains  led  a  man  to  the  Savior  in  the  room  below. 


118 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


The  sick  soldier  in  the  Convent  Hospital,  Fredericks- 
burg. Wounded  —  faint  —  perhaps  dying.  "  Will  you 
have  something  to  drink  ?"  "  O  no,  sir,  I    can't  drink 


rum. 


?> 


These,  no  doubt,  are  similar  to  the  notes  of  all 
the  officers  of  the  Christian  Commission,  but  will 
give  an  idea  of  the  work  he  was  doing  there,  and 
show  what  a  strain  there  must  have  been  on  his  deli- 
cate body,  and  his  sensitive  and  sympathetic  nature. 
Shortly  after  his  return  to  Wilmington  the  Phil., 
Wil.  &  Bait.  Railroad  was  threatened,  and  on  Sunday 
morning  notices  were  sent  to  all  the  churches  like 
the  following,  which  Mr.  D.  received: 

Headquarters  Military  Commander, 
Wilmington,  Delaware,  July  10,  1864. 

Citizens  are  earnestly  requested  to  enroll  their  names 
and  organize  into  companies  of  not  less  than  eighty-two 
men  for  the  defense  of  the  Phil.,  Wil.  &  Bait.  Railroad. 

Companies  will  be  accepted  for  thirty  days  or  the 
emergency,  and  will  be  mustered  as  sood  as  the  proper 
number  of  men  is  reported  to  this  office.  Immediate 
action  is  necessary. 

Henry  B.  Judd, 

Major  17.  S.  Army  and  Military  Commander. 

Note. — The  City  Hall  bell  will  be  rung  for  a  meeting 
of  citizens  at  the  hall  at  12^  o'clock  to-day. 
To  the  Pastor, 

2d  Baptist  Church,  Wilmington,  Del. 
(Please  read  this  at  the  close  of  the  services.) 

A  letter  written  by  his  wife  soon  after  to  the  editor 
of  this  memoir  speaks  of  the  general  excitement,  of 


RESIDENCE   IN  WILMINGTON. 


119 


■(► 


the  ordering  off  of  the  Fifth  Delaware  Regiment  on 
a  Sunday,  and  the  strange  appearance  of  the  city  as 
they  came  from  church,  while  the  drums  were  beat- 
ing, the  fifes  playing,  soldiers  marching,  and  every- 
thing utterly  unlike  a  Sabbath  day.  She  adds  that 
Mr.  Dickerson  has  overworked,  has  been  holding 
two  or  three  meetings  a  week  at  the  hospitals,  and 
doing  so  much  in  every  way  that  he  must  have  a 
long  rest. 

During  these  years  there  was  no  one  who  labored 
with  Mr.  Dickerson  so  constantly  and  so  loyally  as 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Aikman,  pastor  of  one  of  the  Presby- 
terian churches  in  Wilmington.  From  Aurora,  New 
York,  Dr.  Aikman  sends  me  the  following  letter, 
which  portrays  the  political  condition  of  the  State, 
and  gives  some  account  of  the  loyal  work  which 
was  done  by  these  two  congenial  spirits.  In  a  note 
accompanying  the  letter  Dr.  Aikman  writes :  ''  I  am 
painfully  apprehensive  that  what  I  have  been  able 
to  write  in  regard  to  Mr.  Dickerson  will  not  be 
satisfactory  to  you,  even  as  it  is  not  to  me.  My 
relations  to,  and  affection  for,  your  husband  were  of 
such  a  nature  that  what  I  prepare  for  the  publixj  eye 
necessarily  appears  very  inadequate.  I  do  not  know 
how  to  help  it." 

Aurora,  N.  Y.,  July  5,  1878. 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Dickersox  :  It  was  in  "  the  solemn 
and  eventful  days  of  the  war"  (so  he  impressively 
described  them  in  his  last  letter  to  me),  that  I 
became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Dickerson.  The  peculiar 
circumstances  in  which  we  found  ourselves,  as  well 
as    our    most    perfect    accord    and    sympathy    on  the 


ff 


120 


JAMES   8,  DICKERSON. 


great  questions  which  were  then  shaking  the  land  and 
making  the  air  tropical  from  love  or  liatred,  ripened 
the  acquaintance  almost  at  once  into  an  intimacy  and 
friendship  which  was  very  precious  to  us  botli. 

Delaware  was  a  slave  State  and  a  border  State.  That 
single  sentence  has  in  it  a  volume  of  mea;ning  to  those 
who  had  their  homes  there  when  the  rebellion  came  on. 
A  great  party  had  held  the  political  power  of  the  State 
for  years;  its  whole  sympathy  was  with  the  seceded 
States,  and  it  would  gladly  have  taken  Delaware  into 
the  so-called  Confederacy. 

At  first  it  was  extremely  doubtful  whether  Delaware 
could  be  kept  in  the  Union.  Everything  was  critical 
and  uncertain.  At  the  head  of  the  street  on  which  I 
resided,  and  just  round  the  corner  from  Mr.  Dickerson's 
home,  rebels  were  under  arms  and  drilling.  Opposite 
my  residence  Union  men  were  drilling,  while  a  sentinel 
with  loaded  rifle  was  keeping  guard.  No  one  could  say 
when  a  collision  might  occur.  As  we  walked  abroad, 
or  looked  in  the  faces  of  passers  by,  it  was  with  a  feel- 
ing of  entire  uncertainty  whether  or  not  the  man  we 
might  meet  was  an  enemy  who  would  gladly  have  our 
life.  The  parties  were  so  evenly  balanced  that  it  was 
impossible  to  say  in  advance  which  would  be  in  the 
ascendancy. 

In  the  all  wise  ordering  of  Divine  Providence  almost 
every  pulpit  in  Wilmington,  the  largest  and  most 
influential  city  of  the  State,  was  filled  by  a  Union  man, 
and  several  by  the  most  prominently  Northern  and 
anti-slavery  men.  So  it  was  that  as  the  first  mutterings 
of  the  coming  storm  were  heard,  these  pulpits  began  to 
speak,  and  when  it  burst,  their  tones  were  familiar  for 
the  right. 

Among  this  band  of  patriotic  men,  who  were  fighting 


c: 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON.  121 

a  battle  for  the  country  with  perhaps  not  less  heroism 
than  that  which  summoned  others  to  the  field,  Mr.  Dick- 
erson  took  his  place,  and  from  the  first  hour  of  his 
coming  stood  in  the  front  line  of  the  combat. 

In  these  memories,  which  come  up  with  their  oppres- 
sive sadness  while  I  write,  Mr.  Dickerson  and  his  heroi'c 
wife   are    blended.      She   not   less    than    he    holds  her 
place  in  my  admiring  memory.     She  passed  away  from 
earth   before   the  war  closed,  worn   down  by  work   and 
care  at  home  and  abroad,  but  her  memory" is  green  in 
the  heart  of  many  a  soldier,  or  widowed  soldier's  wife 
to  whom  she  gave  her  very  life.     In  the  hospital,  among 
the  sick  and  wounded,  she  was  an  angel  of  mercy,  and 
in  all  the  ways  in  which  a  true   woman  can  be  a  benefi- 
cent power  she  was  eminent.     Both   in   him  and  in  her 
were  seen  frailty  of  body  that  yet  bore  up  in  untiring 
and   unselfish   labor  to  preserve    the   nation's    life    and 
minister  to  its  defenders. 

At  this  distance  of  time  my  recollections  enable  me 
to  speak  only  in  the  most  general  way  of  my  friend's 
work.  Scenes  and  incidents,  all  full  of  quivering  inter- 
est then,  have  grown  dim  and  faded  now.  I  recall  our 
solitary  walks  in  which  we  mingled  our  common  hopes 
and  fears  and  sympathies,  our  communings  joyous  and 
sad  in  each  other's  studies,  our  recreations,  when,  on  our 
skates  and  with  our  children,  we  sought  to  throw  ofi* 
for  a  little  while  the  weary  cares  that  oppressed  us  as 
the  war  went  on. 

Mr.  Dickerson  was  active  and  energetic  in  every 
labor  that  the  exigencies  of  the  time  demanded.  I 
find  his  name  on  calls  for  public  meetings  in  the  church 
in  which  I  was  pastor,  and  his  voice  there  and  every- 
where gave  no  uncertain  sound,  while  his  facile  pen  was 
ready  with  words  of  hope  or  warning. 


122 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


The  times  were  not  the  easy-going  times  of  peace. 
There,  within  almost  the  sound  of  the  battle  -  field, 
everything  took  the  cast  of  the  excitement  which  was 
abroad.  We  lay  down  at  night  with  the  probability  that 
before  the  dawn  rebel  cavalry  would  be  in  our  streets, 
for  we  knew  that  the  powder  mills  three  miles  away 
would  naturally  draw  the  attention  of  the  enemy.  The 
lines  between  man  and  man  were  sharply  drawn,  old 
friendships  were  cast  aside  and  companionships  aban- 
doned as  men  took  either  side,  for  or  against  the  govern- 
ment. So,  while  those  who  stood  for  it  were  drawn  by 
peculiar  ties  more  closely,  those  who  hated  it  were 
rano-ed  ao-ainst  them  in  a  hostility  that  needed  only  an 

IT 

opportunity  to  culminate  in  violence  and  death.  It  was 
not  strange  that  such  a  man  as  Dr.  Dickerson  should  be 
cordially  hated  by  the  enemies  of  the  country,  and  he 
took  willingly  and  joyfully  the  enmity  which  was  sure 
to  follow  patriotism  as  out-spoken  and  energetic  as  his. 

Devoted  husband  and  father  as  he  was,  and  with  much 
to  occupy  both  head  and  heart  and  hands  at  home,  he 
was  ready  with  help  for  the  sick  and  wounded  at  his 
door  and  ready  to  go  abroad  also  for  this  work.  I 
remember  him  as  we  met  in  the  streets  of  Fredericks- 
buro-,  he  in  the  service  of  the  Christian,  I  in  that  of  the 
Sanitary,  Commission,  and  I  knew  that  with  his  ready 
hand  and  glowing  heart  he  was  shunning  no  labor  in 
that  scene  of  suffering. 

I  have  before  me  now  an  editorial  from  one  of  the 
papers  of  Wilmington,  giving  then,  as  they  are  now, 
my  heartfelt  convictions  regarding  the  man  and  his 
work  in  Wilmington  : 

"In  the  community  Mr.  Dickerson  has  made  for 
himself  an  abiding  impression.  With  others,  here 
before    him,    he    has    been     from    the   first   intensely 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


123 


loyal,  never  fearing  to  speak  or  act  when  anything 
could  be  said  or  done  to  aid  the  cause  of  the 
country.  He  has  given  no  doubtful  utterances  in  rela- 
tion to  slavery  or  the  rights  of  the  black  man.  On  all 
public  occasions  he  has  identified  himself  with  those 
who  were  foremost  in  patriotic  efforts  to  crush  the 
rebellion,  not  hesitating  to  throw  the  whole  weight  of 
his  influence,  and  in  every  way,  against  treason  open  or 
covert.  It  must  be  a  satisfaction  that  he  goes  away " 
(the  article  was  written  just  as  Mr.  Dickerson  was 
leaving  Wilmington)  "  at  a  time  when  the  labors  of 
these  years  of  anxieties  are  crowned  with  such  glorious 
success. 

^  "Having  endeared  himself  to  a  very  large  circle  of 
friends  outside  his  congregation,  he  bears  with  him  their 
fervent  wishes  for  his  prosperity  and  success,  and  leaves 
behind  him  only  pleasant  recollections  of  a  genial,  open- 
hearted,  earnest,  and  able  man."— 2>6/ai(jare  Republican^ 
May  8,  18G5. 

And  what  I  wrote  for  the  public  is  a  very  cold  and 
formal  expression  of  the  abiding  admiration  and  affec- 
tion with  which  my  friend  was  enshrined  in  my  heart. 
I  shall  hold  him  forever  in  memory  as  he  was,  in  the 
bright  joyousness  of  his  spirit,  the  high  nobility  of  his 
soul,  when  we  walked  and  worked  together,  and  re- 
joiced in  homes  and  companionships  which  were  like 
the  joys  and  environments  of  heaven. 

In  a  letter  received  from  one  of  the  members  of 
the  church  in  Wilmington,  the  writer  says:  "All 
my  recollections  of  Dr.  Dickerson,  as  pastor, 
brother,  and  friend,  are  pleasant;  and  none  more 
so  among  the  memories  of  those  on  earth,  or  of  those 
that  with  him  have  gone  to  the  joys  of  a  better  world. 


124 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


I  look  back  upon  the  five  years  that  he  was  our  pastor 
as  the  best  years  of  my  life  ;  when  I  did  more  efficient 
service  for  the  Master,  under  tlie  guidance  of  Dr. 
Dickerson,  than  ever  before  or  since.  *  *  *  Q^^ 
church  liad  been  retrograding  for  two  years,  both 
spiritually  and  financially,  when  he  came  to  Wil- 
mington ;  but  from  that  time  everything  moved  on 
more  hopefully  in  all  respects.  The  congregation 
and  Sunday  school  increased  in  numbers,  and  we 
had  one  "jreat  revival  while  he  was  with  us.  During: 
the  five  years  over  three  hundred  persons  united 
with  the  church  by  baptism.  The  first  year  he 
was  with  us  the  pew-rents  increased  nearly  a 
thousand  dollars,  the  church  was  united  and  har- 
monious, and  Dr.  Dickerson  was  looked  upon  as  a 
leader  in  every  good  thing.  *  *  *  j  have  seen 
him  under  many  different  circumstances,  and  he 
always  had  the  love  and  respect  of  those  by  whom 
he  was  surrounded.  He  was  sought  for  to  speak  to 
all  the  Sunday  schools  in  the  city,  and  wherever  he 
went  he  received  a  most  hearty  welcome.  Every- 
where he  was  a  friend  and  a  true  helper.  What  he 
did  for  the  countr}'-  can  hardly  be  realized,  except  to 
those  who  lived  here,  and  knew  the  value  of  his 
services. 

"  Was  there  a  victory  for  our  army  ?  we  were  sure 
of  loyal  inspiring  words  from  one  who  was  in 
sympathy  with  it.  When  there  was  a  defeat,  and 
some  one  was  looked  for  to  discover  a  bright  side 
and  cheer  us.  Dr.  Dickerson  was  always  the  one 
called  for.  At  the  bedside  of  the  sick,  or  in  the 
house  of  mourning,  he  ever  brought  words  of  cheer 


i 


fm 


RESIDENCE   IN   WILMINGTON. 


125 


and  comfort !  As  chaplain  of  the  Fifth  Del.  Reg't., 
of  which  I  was  a  member,  he  was  a  most  faithful 
man  in  his  place ;  was  with  us  at  Fort  Delaware, 
while  guarding  the  prisoners,  and  every  one  felt  they 
had  in  him  a  true  friend.  Several  of  our  number 
died  from  exposure;  one  a  young  man  whose 
parents  were  members  of  the  Society  of  Friends. 
Although  it  was  never  their  custom  to  have  anyone 
speak  at  the  funeral  service.  Dr.  Dickerson  was 
asked  to  attend,  and  was  told  that  if  he  felt  inclined 
to  say  anything  there  would  be  no  objection  to  it 
whatever.  Such  an  innovation  made  quite  a  stir ; 
but  was  most  acceptable  to  all. 

"  One  incident  during  his  pastorate  here  will  ever 
be  remembered  by  those  who  witnessed  it.  It  was 
the  giving  of  the  hand  of  fellowship  one  Sabbath 
morning,  to  more  than  a  hundred  recent  converts. 
They  were  ranged  all  around  the  church,  and  I 
thought,  '  Surely  the  pastor  can  not  have  a  word  for 
each  one  this  time.'  (He  was  always  so  happy  in 
his  reception  of  members ;  having  a  most  appropriate 
word  for  each.)  But  he  stood  on  the  platform  and 
they  moved  slowly  by,  while  he  took  the  hand  of 
each,  and  said  something  which  was  adapted  to  each 
case.  It  was  a  wonderfully  tender  scene.  *  *  * 
Some  of  his  sermons  we  shall  never  forget.  He  had 
unusual  talents  for  a  public  speaker,  and  was  so  true 
and  devoted  a  Christian  that  his  sermons  had  a 
powerful  influence;  and  in  the  prayer-meetings  I 
have  never  seen  his  equal." 

From  a  letter  received  from  another  member  of 
the  same  church,  who  did  much  active   service  for 


. 


t 


126 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


the  country  in  hospitals  at  the  front  during  the  war, 
we  quote  a  few  paragraphs.  She  speaks  of  his  work 
for  the  church  in  the  same  general  way  as  in  the 
letter  above  quoted,  and  then  says  : — "  Dr.  Dickerson 
was  earnest  and  active  in  the  temperance  cause ; 
often  lecturing  on  this  subject  to  large  and  apprecia^ 
tive  audiences,  over  wliom  his  eloquence  had 
wonderful  power.  He  was  also  an  Anti-Slavery 
man  ;  always  ready  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  poor 
and  oppressed.  When  Fort  Sumter  was  attacked 
it  was  feared  that  Delaware  would  secede  with  the 
other  Slave  States ;  for  our  senators  were  secession- 
ists, and  tried  to  have  our  legislature  unite  with  the 
South ;  but  most  of  the  ministers  of  every  denom- 
ination were  faithful  to  their  countr}^  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  their  earnest  pleadings  and  labors  saved 
our  State  from  rebellion.  Among  these  none  were 
more  loyal,  no  one  so  brave  as  the  pastor  of  the 
Second  Baptist  Church  of  Wilmington,  Delaware. 
He  was  true  and  firm  to  the  end ;  regardless  of 
friend  or  foe.  And  it  was  not  all  talk  with  him  — 
he  acted  his  sentiments.  He  went  down  to  the 
front,  during  that  most  horrible  of  battles,  the 
'  Battle  of  the  Wilderness,'  and  worked  as  few  men 
did.  I  met  him  at  Fredericksburg.  He  was  among 
the  faithful.  And  he  was  not  one  to  offer  merely 
spiritual  consolation,  where  there  was  so  much 
bodily  suffering.  He  helped  to  prepare  nourishment 
for  the  sick  and  wounded,  to  dress  their  wounds, 
and  to  minister  to  their  comfort  in  many  ways.  I 
recall  to-day  how  untiringly  he  would  stir  in  the 
farina  to  the  large  kettles  as  I  poured  it  in,  pound 


RESIDENCE  IN  WILMINGTON. 


1 


127 


after  pound.  Although  not  strong,  nor  able  to 
endure  hardships,  there  were  few  men  that  worked 
so  hard  as  he  did,  and  none  harder.  *  *  *  He 
left  Wilmington  the  year  the  war  ended,  with  the 
resrret  and  sorrow  of  hundreds  besides  those  in  his 
large  church  and  congregation." 


tmmmmmmmfmmi^ 


f 


CHAPTER  IX. 


LAST  YEAR   IN  WILMINGTON. 


j1 


^1 


Mr.  Dickerson's  pastorate  in  Wilmington  con- 
tinued five  years  —  years  of  faithful  and  almost 
unceasing  toil,  alike  for  his  country  and  for  the 
church.  That  his  intense  patriotism  had  not 
swallowed  up  his  piety,  or  diminished  his  spiritual 
fervor,  there  are  abundant  attestations.  During  the 
last  year  of  his  pastorate,  especially,  there  was  a 
very  powerful  revival  in  his  church,  prepared  for 
by  his  faithful  labors,  but  occurring  largely  in 
connection  with  the  co-operation  of  Rev.  Jacob 
Knapp,  who  aided  him  during  six  or  eight  weeks  of 
the  Winter  of  186-4-5.  The  number  of  converts 
was  very  large,  and  over  two  hundred  persons,  I 
think,  were  added  as  members  to  Mr.  Dickerson's 
church,  while  several  other  churches  received 
considerable  additions  as  the  fruit  of  this  revival. 
During  Mr.  Dickerson's  entire  ministry  here,  the 
accessions  to  his  church  were  over  three  hundred. 

Regarding  this  last  work.  Elder  Knapp  repeatedly 
declared,  that  he  had  never  labored  more  happily, 
nor  received  from  any  pastor  more  cordial  and 
sympathetic  co-operation  than  from  Mr.  Dickerson. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  Mr.  Dickerson  received 
his  first  decided  impulses  to  a  Christian  life  under 

128 


j 


t 


LAST  YEAR  IN  WILMINGTON. 


129 


the  preaching  of  this  distinguished  evangelist,  and  it 
was  most  natural  that  his  heart  should  ever  turn 
toward  him  with  interest  and  affection.  The  last 
letter  which  Mr.  Knapp  ever  wrote  was  written  to 
Mr.  Dickerson,  in  reply  to  one  of  sympathy  from 
him,  after  hearing  of  his  severe  illness.  We  give 
this  letter,  in  the  belief  that  it  will  be  of  interest  to 
many  of  our  readers. 

RocKFORD,  Feb.  25,  1874. 

My  Dear  Brother  Dickerson  :  How  delighted  I 
should  be  to  be  associated  with  you  in  another  glorious 
revival  ;  but  that  I  never  expect  until  we  pass  over 
Jordan,  and  then  there  will  be  no  fatigue,  no  souls  to 
convert,  no  backsliders  to  reclaim,  but  an  eternal  day, 
when  we  shall  reap  the  fruits  of  our  labors  here. 

I  think  I  am  standing  on  the  shore,  and  often  exclaim: 
"  O,  come,  ye  white-winged  angels,  and  convey  me  away 
to  my  eternal  home."  I  should  be  happy  to  write  you  a 
good,  long  paternal  letter,  but  I  am  not  able.  I  can 
only  write  a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  My  lungs,  throat, 
and  head  are  inflamed,  and  all  I  have  been  able  to  do 
has  yet  failed  to  remove  the  difficulty.  Last  Summer 
I  almost  recovered,  and  preached  several  Sabbaths  with 
ease  to  myself  and  comfort  to  others.  But  I  then  took 
a  sudden  cold  which  has  brought  me  down  worse  than 
ever.  I  am  pained  exceedingly  for  breath,  and  can  do 
nothinsr  at  all.  It  is  with  difficultv  that  I  can  ask  a 
blessing  at  the  table.  Still  my  doctor  thinks  if  I  can 
get  along  until  warm  weather  I  may  be  restored  again 
to  health.  I  will  remember  you,  and  your  family  and 
church  in  my  feeble  prayers,  and  beg  yours  for  me  and 
mine.  The  religious  papers  have  been  as  silent  as 
death  about  my  condition.     I  have   been  excluded  from 


130 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


LAST  YEAR  IN  WILMINGTON. 


131 


the  house  of  God  most  of  the  time  for  two  years,  bal- 
ancing between  life  and  death,  and  yet  scarcely  an 
allusion  has  been  made  to  it  :  no  prayers  requested  for 
me.  One  or  two  Boston  papers  have  given  me  a  kind 
remembrance  and  some  political  papers.  O,  how  worth- 
less and  unstable  is  the  applause  of  men  !  When  we 
are  leading  on  God's  sacramental  host  from  victory  to 
victory,  shaking  cities,  convulsing  continents,  and 
scarcely  in  need  of  sympathy,  we  are  exalted  to 
Heaven;  but  when  worn  out  with  hundreds  of  successful 
campaigns,  standing  on  the  verge  of  eternity,  in  great 
pain  and  solicitude,  we  are  passed  by  as  a  worthless 
thing.  I  thank  God  for  the  great  change  which  He 
has  brought  about  in  my  day,  no  matter  whether  by  me 
or  somebody  else.  He  has  done  all  the  work,  and  to 
Him  be  all  the  glory.  I  feel  as  I  am  nearing  the  eternal 
world,  that  God  is  all  and  in  all,  and  I  am  nothing. 
I  see  more  to  regret  in  my  past  history  than  ever  before, 
and  nothing  in  which  to  glory  cave  the  cross  of  Christ. 
Give  my  love  to  your  dear  wife  and  children,  and  to  all 
the  brethren  and  sisters  in  Boston.  I  am  tired  out  and 
must  bid  vou  ffood  by.  Jacob  Knapp. 

P.  S.     All  my  family  remember  you  with  ajFection. 

This  letter  —  the  last  of  Mr.  Knapp's  letters  — 
was  written  a  day  or  two  before  his  death.  His 
daughter  accompanied  it  with  one  describing  her 
father's  peaceful  death,  and  stating  how  much  com- 
fort he  had  received  from  Mr.  Dickerson's  kind 
words  of  remembrance.  Such  acts  were  character- 
istic of  him.  Alike  to  the  near  and  the  distant  who 
were  in  suffering,  he  was  constantly  giving  tokens 
of  his  unforgetting  sympathy. 

The  time  was  now  rapidly  drawing  near  that  was 


to  close  Mr.  Dickerson's  labors  with  the  church  in 
Wilmington.  He  had  received,  in  February,  1865, 
just  before  the  coming  of  Elder  Knapp  to  Wilming- 
ton, an  invitation  to  preach  for  the  First  Baptist 
Church  in  Pittsburgh,  Pennsylvania.  He  accepted 
the  invitation,  and  his  sermons  were  so  well  received 
that,  in  a  short  time,  he  received  from  this  large, 
important,  wealthy,  and  flourishing  church  a  unan- 
imous call  to  become  their  pastor.  Daring  the 
revival  which  followed  the  coming  of  Elder  Knapp, 
his  acceptance  of  it  was  necessarily  delayed.  He 
was,  however,  seriously  contemplating  its  acceptance, 
and  in  March  he  wrote  to  one  of  the  members  in 
Pittsburgh  with  whom  he  had  had  some  correspond- 
ence, a  letter,  from  which  the  following  extracts  will 
show  at  once  his  own  state  of  mind,  and  the  con- 
dition of  his  flock  in  Wilmington. 

I  little  thought  when  I  left  you  a  few  weeks  ago  that 
before  the  first  of  April,  I  should  have  the  precious 
privilege  of  baptising  over  a  hundred  persons  into  the 
fellowship  of  my  church.  Every  day  has  brought  its 
labors,  its  anxieties,  and  its  triumphs;  and  as  it  has  been 
at  times  impossible  to  drive  either  the  people  of  God, 
or  rejoicing  converts,  or  pleading,  broken-hearted  sin- 
ners away  from  the  place  of  prayer,  our  meetings  have 
continued  very  late,  and  it  has  sometimes  been  twelve 
o'clock  before  I  could  lay  my  poor,  worn-out  body  down 
to  sleep.  Elder  Knapp  has,  however,  done  all  the 
preaching;  while  the  exhortation,  singing,  talking,  etc., 
etc.,  has  been  fully  enough  to  wear  upon   my  strength. 

From  this  you  see  that  with  services  every  day  and 
evening,  and  other  duties  outside,  I  have  been  able  only 


U 


132 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


to  think,  pray,  and  almost  weep,  with  regard  to  Pitts- 
burgh.    Headed  by  Elder  Knapp  the  friends  here  are 
unanimous  that  I  ought  not  to  think  of  going,  that  I  abso- 
lutely ca)i?t  go  !     Salary  shall  be  made  up  to  $2,000,  and 
new  support  and  sympathy  are  proflfered,  while  the  outside 
community  threaten  to  turn   a  spring  freshet  into  Pitts- 
burgh for  daring  to   call    the  Baptist  dominie  away  from 
Delaware.     In    fact,   my   dear   brother,  it   would   have 
been   a  great  relief  to  me  if  you  or   brother  R.  could 
have   happened  in  to   consult  with   me,  and  give  Pitts- 
burgh a  fair  chance.     Some  of  my  members  saw  in  the 
National  Baptist  of  last  week  that  I   had  received  the 
call,  and  on  Sunday  I  told  them  from  the  pulpit  that  T 
was  considering  the  question,  and  asked  them  to  pray 
that    we    might    all    be    rightly    directed.     Were   con- 
venience or  even  the  question  of  salary  to  turn  the  case, 
$2,000  here  would  be  much  better  than  the  same  amount 
at  Pittsburgh;  but  I  want  to  settle  the  case  on  other  and 
far  higher  considerations,  and  1  am  willing  to  trust  all 
my  pecuniary  affairs  with  my  friends  in  either  church. 
*     *     *    I  find  mv  mind  leaninor  toward  Pittsburgh,  but 
I  have  not  as  yet  gained  the   consent  of  my  judgment 
to  say  ."  yes "   to  your    call.     1    am   getting   myself   in 
readiness  to  go,  provided  that  should  seem  to  be  the  will 
of  God.     *     *     *     I  am  rejoiced  that  you  have   "  put 
your  hands  to  the  plow,"  and  sealed  the  bargain  for  the 
church  lots.     May  God's   blessing  attend  you   at   every 
step.     Put  your  laborers   right  to  work,  and  get  under 
weigh  at  once.     Every  day  lost  is  one  day  longer  to 
wait  for  the  happy  hour  when  you  can  present  your  new 
edifice  as    an  offering  to  God,  and    as  an    altar    where 
sorrowing  souls  may  taste   His  grace  !     Oh,  may  your 
new  edifice  be  filled  with  the  glory  of  God,  and  become 
the  very  "  gate  of  Heaven  "  to  many  wandering  ones  ! 


LAST  YEAR  IN  WILMINGTON. 


133 


I  am  a  little  at  a  loss  as  to  going  to  the  anniversaries  at 
St.  Louis  in  May.  I  am  a  member  of  the  Executive 
Committee  of  the  Board  of  the  Missionary  Union,  and 
ought  to  be  there,  but  really  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  go, 
as  I  am  now  fixed.  Give  my  kindest  regards  to  all  your 
friends,  and  especially  to  your  good  wife  and  family. 
May  God's  blessings  abide  with  you,  and  may  salvation 
come  to  your  house,  my  dear  brother,  and  may  all  your 
family  be  of  the  household  of  faith. 

Affectionately  yours, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

A  few  weeks  after  this  he  came  to  the  decision 
that  it  was  his  duty  to  accept  the  call  to  the 
Pittsburgh  church,  and  he  wrote  accordingly  the 
following  letter  : 

Wilmington,  April  12,  1865. 

Messrs.  Eversox,  Strickler,  and  Stephenson, 

Committee  of  First  Baptist  Church,  Pittsburgh,  Pa. 

Dear  Brethren  :  After  careful  and  prayerful  con- 
sideration of  all  the  circumstances  involved  in  your 
invitation  to  the  pastorate  of  the  First  Baptist  Church, 
Pittsburgh,  I  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  it  is 
my  duty  to  accept  your  call.  You  will  therefore  convey 
to  the  church  my  acceptance,  and  urge  them  to  renewed 
prayer  that  the  Great  Head  of  the  Church  may  set  the 
seal  of  His  approval  upon  their  choice,  and  upon  my 
decision. 

While  I  leave  behind  me  a  united,  prosperous,  and 
affectionate  church,  T  go  to  my  new  field  of  labor  with 
large  hopes  for  the  Divine  presence  and  blessing,  and 
with  great  confidence  that  I  shall  receive  the  sympathies 
and  hearty  co-operation  of  all  the  members  of  my 
new  church. 


134 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


LAST  YEAR  IN  WILMINGTON. 


135 


O,  that  coming  years  of  happy,  prosperous,  vigorous 
growth  on  the  part  of  your  dear  church,  and  larger 
measures  of  usefuhiess  in  the  work  of  God  by  both 
pastor  and  people  may  attest  the  true  wisdom  of  what  is 
now  consummated  !  That  grace,  mercy,  and  peace  from 
God  our  Father,  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the 
Communion  of  the  Holy  Spirit  may  abide  with  you  all 
forever,  is  the  earnest  and  sincere  prayer  of  your 
Aflfectionate  friend  and  brother  in  Christ, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

Mr.  Dickerson  did  not  leave  Wilmington  until 
after  the  first  Sabbath  in  May,  and  was  permitted 
to  receive  into  the  church  on  that  Sabbath,  multi- 
tudes of  hapjiy  believers.  Among  the  number  then 
baptised  and  received  was  his  wife,  who  had  hitherto 
remained  in  the  Episcopal  communion,  although  for 
some  time  a  Baptist  in  belief,  and  attending  regularly 
with  her  husband  the  ordinary  services  of  the 
church.  With  her,  too,  he  baptised  his  eldest  son, 
then  twelve  years  of  age,  and  his  daughter  Ada, 
whom,  as  for  many  years  the  afflicted  lamb  of  his 
houseliold  flock,  he  saw  with  peculiar  pleasure 
gathered  into  the  fold  of  the  Heavenly  Shepherd. 
On  that  Sabbath  they  all  sat  down  together  —  along 
with  the  large  congregation  of  believers  —  for  the 
first  time ;  and  no  earthly  eye  could  foresee,  and  no 
earthly  heart  could  divine,  that  it  was  for  the  last. 
He  could  not  know  and  did  not  dream  that  she,  who 
had  been  for  so  many  years  the  light  of  his  home,  and 
the  joy  of  his  heart,  and  whom  he  had  just  now 
welcomed  into  a  more  perfect  Christian  union,  would, 
on  the  morning  of  another  Sabbath,  be  lying  on  her 


dying  bed  ;  and  that,  on  the  day  after,  he  would  be 
gathering  his  motherless  children  —  too  young  fully 
to  appreciate  their  loss  —  about  her  grave.  And  if 
he  had  known  it,  though  it  would  have  lent  to  the 
present  festive  scene  an  indescribable  pathos,  yet 
faith  would  have  looked  through  the  agony  of  the 
parting,  and  the  darkness  of  the  tomb,  to  the 
triumphant  awakening,  the  glad  reunion,  and  the 
eternal  life  beyond.  Thus  bright  is  the  heavenly 
hope  that  irradiates  the  dark  river  of  life,  and  the 
scarcely  darker  river  of  death,  towards  which  is  its 
sure  and  steady  course. 

But  now  the  messenger  of  fate,  though  near,  was 
unseen  and  unsuspected,  and  nothing  clouded  the 
gladness  of  the  occasion  but  the  general  sorrow 
over  the  loss  of  the  pastor,  whom  all  so  thoroughly 
esteemed,  and  so  warmly  loved.  Mr.  Dickerson  was 
not  the  man  to  be  five  years  in  any  community  with- 
out binding  many  hearts  to  him  with  the  strongest 
ties  of  affection.  A  character  naturally  loveable  had 
been  touched  into  higher  beauty  by  grace,  so  that 
esteem,  based  on  the  most  thorough  confidence  in 
his  moral  integrity,  was  blended  with  the  attachment 
which  his  winning  ways  uniformly  inspired.  The 
church  was  crowded  to  overflowing  to  hear  his 
farewell  sermon,  and  witness  the  reception  of  the 
large  number  of  converts.  In  the  afternoon  a  large 
assembly  gathered  again  at  the  Sunday  school  anni- 
versary, where  beautiful  presents  were  given,  both 
to  the  Pastor  and  his  wife,  as  tokens  of  the  love 
alike  of  teachers  and  pupils.  Mrs.  Dickerson  had 
for  a  long  time  taken  charge  of  the  infant  class,  and, 


1 

I 

'i 
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i 


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I 


jgg  JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 

beiixr  a  good  musician,  had  assisted  greatly  in  the 
church  music,  both  vocal  and  instrumental.      She 
was  a  woman  of  much  natural  humor,  genera  ly  of 
great  vivacity  of  spirits,  and  was  universally  loved, 
both  by  young  and  old.     Having  for  some  t.me  beeu 
a  Baptist  in  her  general  convictions,  aud  saUsfied 
that  she  could  aid  her  husband  more  effectually    y 
a  closer  union  in  the  church,  she  determined  to   alee 
the  step  before  her  husband  entered  h.s  new  field  of 
.labor.     That  anticipated  field  of  labor  she  did  not 

^'''iVreCrd  to  the  Sabbath  school  celebration,  we 
make  hom  the  Delaware  Journal  and  Statesman, 
May  12th,  the  following  extracts : 

Washington  Jones,  Esq.,  read  his  report,  which 
showed  th^t  the  school  had  made  large  accessions  to  Us 
number  during  the  year,  and  that  many  of  tlie  pupds 
hreTrofessed  religion  and  connected  themselves  w.h 
the  church.     Then  follows  a  full  report,  after  wh  ch  the 

uperiLndent  addressed  the  pastor  in  these  words: 
"  Mv  Deau  Buothkk  akd  Pastok:    I  should  be  doing 

ou  :arm:st  affection  and  ^V-^V^^^y.^^'l'^Zi^ZZl 
of  entire  confidence  in  you  as  a  minister  of  the  Lo  d 

T  fphrist  You  have  ever  faithfully  and  earnestly 
^LSt  trlhs  of  the  blessed  Oospe^  ->;^^^^^^^^^^^ 

favor  or  fear  of  man,  and  have  not  failed  to  preach 
rsin  in  hi<.h  places  as  well  as  low,  nor  to  denounce 

treason  and  slavery,  as  well  as  otlier  vices^  J^Zl^ 

in  God  to-day  that  that  noble  flag,  draped  on  tins  altar, 


LAST  YEAR   IN   WILMINGTON. 


137 


has  never   been   dishonored  in  this  pulpit,  but  has  been 
defended  with  a  veneration  as  strong  as  the  love  of  life 
itself.     *      *      *     You  came  to  us,  my  brother,   about 
five  years  ago  with  fear  and  trembling,  lest  your  health 
might  not  bear  you  out  in  the  discharge  of  your  onerous 
duties;  but  God   has  abundantly   blessed  you,  and  set 
the   seal  of  his  approval  on  your  labors,  by  permittino- 
you  to  receive    into   the   church   about   three    hundred 
members  during  your  pastorate.     My  brother,  we  shall 
miss   you    from    this    pulpit   where    we    have    so   often 
listened  to  you  with  profit  and  pleasure;  we  shair  miss 
you  at  the  desk  below,  where  we   so  often  gathered  at 
the  lecture  and  for  social  prayer  and  conference;  and  in 
the  Sabbath  schools,  O,  how  much  we  shall  miss  your 
pleasant  countenance,  your  words  of  hope  and  encour- 
agement to  the  teachers,  your  entertaining  and  instruc- 
tive   addresses   to   the    children,    and   your   aid   to  the 
superintendent.     And  last,  but  not  least,  we  shall  miss 
your  social  visits  to  our  families,  which  were  alwavs  of 
the  most  pleasant  character.     In  conclusion  allow  me  to 
say  that  the    prayers  of  the   church  will  ascend  to  the 
throne  of  Grace,  invoking  the  richest  of  God's  blessino-s 
upon  you  and  your  dear  family,  and    praying  that  He 
may  make  you  even  more  happy  and  useful  in  your  new 
field  of  labor,  than  you   have  been   in   the  one  you  are 
leaving." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Aikman  then  followed  with  some 
remarks,  referring  in  pleasing  terms  to  the  labors  of 
Rev.  Mr.  Dickerson,  both  as  a  minister  of  the  gospel 
and  a  citizen,  and  expressed  great  regret  at  the  loss  the 
community  will  sustain  in  his  removal  from  our  city. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  exercises  the  teachers  and 
scholars  thronged  around  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dickerson  to 
take   leave  of  him,  and   the  tears  which   gushed  from 


138 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


LAST  YEAR  IN  WILMINGTON. 


139 


many  an  eye,  testified  the  deep  hold  he  has  upon  the 
afFections  of  those  to  whom  he  has  ministered  in  spirit- 
ual thin.iTs,  during  the  past  five  years.  He  has  labored 
in  the  cause  of  Christianity  and  education  with  a  zeal 
worthy  of  the  cause.  The  soldier  has  ever  found  in 
him  a  constant  and  steadfast  friend,  and  whether  in  the 
camp  or  hospital,  or  far  away  on  the  field  of  strife,  he 
was  ever  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  mitigate  his 
sorrows  or  relieve  his  wants.  To  his  agency  our  brave 
volunteers  are  indebted  for  many  comforts  which  served 
to  render  them  happy  even  amidst  the  toils  and  the 
cares  of  the  tented  field.  May  his  future  life  be 
attended  with  prosperity  and  happiness,  and  in  the  new 
field  of  his  labors,  may  he  meet  with  abundant  reward. 

From  the  Delaware  Republican  of  May  11th,  which 
gave  an  account  of  the  farewell  to  the  church,  we 
quote  a  few  lines: 

In  the  morning  the  house  was  filled  to  excess,  and 
Mr.  D.  in  concluding  his  sermon  referred  to  the  troubles 
of  earth,  the  parting  with  dear  friends,  and  remarked 
that  these  things  should  make  us  all  tliink  of  the  happy 
meetings  in  Heaven.  "  There  is  not  in  my  heart  or 
mind  a  single  feeling  of  dislike  toward  anyone,  and 
there  is  not  one  upon  whose  head  I  do  not  sincerely 
invoke  the  blessing  of  God." 

On  the  Wednesday  following  these  farewell  ser- 
vices, they  started  for  Philadelphia,  purposing  to 
spend  a  single  day  and  night  with  their  friends,  Rev. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Hyatt  Smith,  and  then  immediately 
resume  their  journey  to  Pittsburgh.  Providence 
ordered  it  otherwise.  Their  proposed  stay  of  a  day 
and  a  night  was  lengthened  into  one  of  several  days 


and  nights,  and  when  it  was  over,  Mrs.  Dickerson 
had  left  her  husband  for  her  heavenly  home,  and  he, 
leaving  his  children  behind  him  in  Philadelphia,  set 
out,  bereaved    and  lonely,  for  his  new  destination. 
The  blow,  unlooked-for  as  it  was,  could  be  traced 
back  to  some  obvious   causes.      Mrs.   Dickerson,  a 
few  weeks  before  their  proposed  removal,  had  had  a 
number  of  teeth  extracted  ;  from  the  use  of   ether 
at  that  time  she  had  been  made  ill  for  several  weeks, 
and   when   sufficiently  recovered   to  be  about,  she 
naturally    overworked  in  her  preparations   for   the 
coming  journey.     Though  sensible  of  overworking, 
yet  she  had  uniformly  enjoyed  so  good  health,  that 
she  had  no  apprehension   of   serious    consequences 
from   a  few  days   of   unwonted   fatigue   and   care. 
When  the  strain  and  excitement  were  over,  however, 
she  again  became  somewhat  ill;  yet  she  refused  to 
yield   to  disease,  and  made  herself  a  cheerful  and 
agreeable  inmate  of  the  family  of  one  of  their  deacons. 
On  arriving  at  Philadelphia,  her  malady  returned  in 
an  aggravated  form  ;  and,  on  the  Monday  following 
the  Wednesday  on  which  they  arrived,  it  ended  in  her 
death.     The  following  letter,  written  in  June,  1865, 
to  the  editor  of  this  memoir,  gives  an  account  of 
these  last  sad  days. 

My  Dear  FmENo:  How  much  your  words  of  loving 
sympathy  tended  to  comfort  and  console  me,  you  can 
hardly  imagine.  'Tis  passing  strange  and  yet  terribly 
true,  that  the  very  ones  whose  love  and  sympathy  in 
hours  of  sorrow  make  us  the  most  conscious  of  our 
losses,  are  the  very  ones  to  whom  we  imploringly  look 
for  consolation.     I  find  myself  groping  around,  not  so 


140 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


LAST  YEAR  IN  WILMINGION. 


141 


much  to  find  and  to  test  my  friends,  as  to  gain  access  to 
the  loving  hearts  that  knew  and  prized  my  dear,  departed 
Julia.     To  have  loved  her  so  as  to  miss  her  now,  so  as  to 
have  valued   all    the   treasure  of  her   noble  qualities  of 
heart  and  mind,  and   all   the  wealth  of  her  pure,  joyous, 
and  unchanging   love  —  this  appreciation   which  makes 
them   to  feel  that  my  grief  is  inconsolable  —  this  con- 
soles me.     That  nothing  can  or  ought  to  comfort  me— 
this  is  the  sweetest  comfort  that  I  get,  save  that  which 
is  found  gushing  in   its   mysterious   depths   and  solitude 
from  the  heart  of  Julia's  Saviour  and  mine  ;  who  knew 
her,  loved  her,  saved  her  for  Himself  and  me,  and  loves 
us  both  so  much,  that   infinitely  to  bless  her  and  me,  He 
took  her  to  Himself  and   Heaven.     Though   T  am  very 
desolate   and   lonely,   I   am   sweetly   sustained  of    God. 
Every  hour  of  the   day  and   every  watch   of  the   night 
brings   its   thoughts  of   the    happy    tender  past  ;  every 
box  I  have  unpacked,  every   book   she  owned  or  loved, 
every    song    she    sung— her  wedding  slippers  and  her 
bridal  dre^s,  still   fresh   and   unfaded,  while   my  darling 
that  wore    them    is   far   away  ;— her   body    cold,  silent, 
dead,    amid    the    shadows    of    Laurel  Hill;    her    spirit 
making  the  atmosphere  of  Heaven  brighter  and  happier 
by  her^'redeemed  smile  and  voice  ;- all  this  constitutes 
the   trial  of  my  situation.     What   must  the  joys  of  the 
heavenly    inheritance  be,    when    in    the    contrast,  such 
tremendous  sorrows  and  griefs  as  these  are  pronounced 
but  "light"  afflictions!     If  by  such  sad  formulas  God 
teaches"the  soul  the  depth  and  power  of  earthly  friend- 
ship, O,  what  shall  be  the  sway  of  that  pure  and  power- 
ful passion  of  the  soul,  the  love  of  Heaven,  towards  its 
angels,  its  recognized  friends  of  earth,  and  towards  the 
infinite,   and  glorious,   and   loving   God,  our  Saviour  ! 


^ 


Here  then  indeed,  my  dear  sister  in  Jesus,  we  can  rest 
satisfied  until 

Faith  is  changed  to  glad  fruition, 
Hope  to  sight,  and  prayer  to  praise. 

Heaven  certainly  seems  nearer,  more  blessed  and 
real  than  ever  before;  and  no  doubt  rich  blessings  to 
myself  and  others  will  grow  out  of  this  deep  and  appar- 
ently unmixed  calamity. 

On  the  Wednesday  after  the  first  Sabbath  in  May,  we 
all    left  Wilmington    at   4  p.m.     In    the    morning  Julia 
seemed  as   well   (save    a   slight    complaint   of    loss    of 
appetite    and    an    inward    pain,    which    neither   of   us 
thought  worthy  of  any  special   notice),  and  as  cheerful 
and  happy  as  could  be.     Hut  just  as  she   reached  the 
depot,    she    seemed    to    be    sinking    into    lassitude    and 
weakness,  and,  as  the  cars  started,  a  nervous  chill  came 
upon  her,   which   however  soon    abated,  and   when   we 
reached  Hyatt  Smith's  we   had  the   fullest  hope  that  an 
hour  or  a  night  of  rest  would   restore   her   fully.     But 
pains,    like    those    of    severe     rheumatism,    inward,  and 
through  her  limbs,  racked  her  all    Thursday  ;    but  the 
evening  found  her  better.     Friday  the  pains  left  her 
limbs,  and  fell   like   lightning  on   her  brain.     Saturday 
she  became  unconscious,  and  so  remained  until  Monday 
night  at  11:30,  when   she   sweetly  fell  on  sleep.     By  the 
side  of  my  dear  mother  and   father,  in   a  bed  of  spring 
flowers  in  Laurel  Hill,  we  laid  her  away  on  the  following 
Thursday.     Never   was    there     more    genuine    heartfelt 
grief  than   was   manifested   over   her  coffin   and  grave. 
Friends  from  Wilmington,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia 
gathered  around,  and  admired   her  even   in  death— for 
she    looked    like  an  angel    dreaming,  among   beautiful 
flowers,  of  going   home.     Spencer  and    I   came   hither 


142 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


LAST  YEAR  IN  WILMINGTON. 


143 


soon  after.    My  new  church  welcomed  me  with  that  true 
delicacy  of  tenderness  which  sings, 

The  heart  feels  most  when  the  lips  move  not. 

They  have  said  little,  but  manifested  a  great  deal. 
The  three  younger  children  came  later  in  company  with 
a  sort  of  maiden  aunt  (a  sister  of  my  brotlver- in -law's 
brother's  first  wife— do  you  get  the  close  relationship  ?). 
"Aunt  Jane"  is  a  lovely  Christian  woman;  a  sweet 
character  indeed;  gentle,  kind,  and  judicious,  and  with 
age  which  has  brought  her  much  experience.  How  long 
I  can  command  her  services  I  hardly  dare  inquire.  She 
comes  to  help  me  through.  I  have  thus  given  you  all 
the  particulars  of  the  trying  scenes  through  which  1 
have  passed.  They  form  a  strange  contrast  with  the 
joyousness  which  has  reigned  in  my  family  circle,  when 
you  have  been  one  of  our  number.  Let  this  appeal  to 
your  sympathies  stir  you  to  remember  us  all  in  your 
prayers,  and  from  your  happier  standpoint  reflect  some 
light,  and  joy,  and  comfort  on  us. 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

James  S.  Dickersox. 

From  the  Delaware  Republican  of  May  22,  1865, 
we  quote  the  following  article  on  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Dickersou : 

Death  of  Mrs.  Dickerson.— The  funeral  services  of 
Mrs.   Dickerson,  wife   of   Rev.  J.  S.  Dickerson,  late  of 
this  city,  were  held  in  the  Eleventh  Baptist  Church  of 
Philadelphia,  on   Thursday  morning.     A  large   number 
of  persons    from    Wilmington    were    present,   to    show 
their  respect  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased,  and  their 
sympathy    with  the   bereaved    husband  —  among  them 
Rev.  Mr.  Wisvvall  and  Rev.    Mr.   Aikman.      Addresses 


<} 


were  made  bv  the  Rev.  Mr.  Aikman  of  this  citv,  and 
Rev.  Messrs.  Jeffrey  and  J.  Hyatt  Smith  of  Phila- 
delphia. The  interment  was  made  in  the  Laurel  Hill 
cemetery. 

It  is  rarely  our  duty  to  record  a  more  melancholy 
bereavement  than  that  which  is  made  in  the  above 
announcement.  After  a  highly  successful  ministry  in 
this  city,  Mr.  Dickerson  was  removing  to  Pittsburgh,  but 
on  the  day  of  his  leaving,  his  wife  was  taken  ill,  and 
was  conveyed  to  the  house  of  an  intimate  friend,  where, 
after  a  rapid  and  uninterrupted  sinking,  she  died  last 
Monday,  having  been  for  the  most  of  the  time  entirely 
unconscious.  Before  she  herself  or  her  friends  were 
aware  of  the  fatal  nature  of  the  attack,  she  was  bevond 
the  reach  of  relief.  We  can  but  inadequately  express 
our  deep  sympathy  with  our  stricken  friend,  or  our  high 
appreciation  of  the  character  of  his  devoted  wife.  It 
does  not  become  us  to  speak  of  the  lovely  traits  which 
made  her  home  radiant,  and  the  scene  of  untiring  and 
self-sacrificin<r  devotion — that  belongs  to  the  inner  circle 
of  those  who  knew  the  beneficence  of  her  daily  life. 

Mrs.  Dickerson  has  been,  during  her  residence  here, 
always  among  the  foremost  in  every  good  work  in  this 
city,  especially  in  everything  which  concerned  the  wel- 
fare of  our  soldiers.  As  the  efficient  treasurer  of  the 
Ladies  Aid  Society,  and  alw^ays  active  in  its  work,  she 
will  not  be  soon  forgotten.  With  engrossing  family 
cares,  and  much  wearing  anxiety,  she  found  time,  if  not 
strength,  to  labor  beside  the  most  earnest  workers,  and 
in  a  spirit  of  entire  self-forgetfulness.  Indeed  these 
public  cares,  together  with  the  toil  that  came  upon  her 
as  a  pastor's  wife,  we  have  reason  to  believe  w^ere  not 
among  the  least  of  the  causes,  which  brought  her  life 
to  so  sudden  a  termination.     In  the  church  and  in  the 


144 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


Sunday  school  she  was  a  very  able  helper  of  her  hus- 
band, and  his  late  people  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  her 
memory.  A  woman  of  rare  energy,  of  devoted  piety, 
and  cultivated  mind,  dilFusing  blessings  wherever  she 
moved,  she  will  long  be  remembered  by  this  community 
where  her  last  days  were  spent. 

Other  papers  in  Wilmington  gave  similar  accounts 
of  her  death,  and  her  characteristics. 

We  bring  to  a  close  our  account  of  Mr.  Dickerson's 
residence  in  Wilmington,  by  extracts  from  two  or 
three  of  his  letters  to  Rev.  Dr.  Aikman.  The  first 
was  written  soon  after  he  became  pastor  in  Pitts- 
burgh, in  July,  1865. 

Wilmington  sometimes  seems  to  have  drifted  away, 
as  though  separated  by  long  periods  of  time,  long 
leagues  of  distance;  and  your  family  seem  to  me  to 
dwell  under  its  fair  skies,  touched  by  its  sunlight,  and 
fanned  by  its  fragrant  air.  And  then  I,  for  a  moment, 
and  my  family,  my  dear  Julia,  seem  with  you  as  close 
neighbors  ;  both  of  us  interested  in  all  that  pertains  to 
each  other's  usefulness  and  happiness.  Our  almost  boyish 
glee  in  walking,  talking,  and  skating  with  each  other, 
has  a  merry,  joyous  laugh  to  it,  like  the  shout  of  inno- 
cent chii(hc3n  at  play.  These  memories,  even  these,  so 
mingled  with  imperfections,  and  so  transient  in  their 
stay, — even  these  have  features  which  should,  I  think, 
remind  us  of  Heaven,  where  all  that  is  truly  noble  and 
good  in  our  present  social  joys  will  be  preserved^  all 
that  is  ill  will  be  purged  away,  while  that  which  is  par- 
tial and  transient  will  be  lifted  to  the  infinite  and  eternal. 
Then,  too,  how  our  capacities  for  enjoyment  will  be 
intensified  and  expanded,  while  we  shall  have  none  for 
Borrow  or  for  sin  !     Heaven   is   bound  to  be   a  happy, 


LAST  YEAR  IN  WILMINGTON. 


145 


happy  place.  Thank  the  Lord  that  each  of  us  are  stock- 
holders, and  that  we  have  alreadv  accrued  interest  due 
us  there!  We  are  all  as  well  as  usual.  I  am  sometimes 
very  sad,  but  my  cheerfulness  is  rallying,  and  my  large 
hope  seeing  things  brighter,  and  faith  k)ioici)ig  what  sight 
as  yet  can  not  clearly  discern.  God  is  daily  showing  me 
His  goodness.  Paxson,  they  tell  me,  has  resigned  — 
now  if  there  is  any  stone  that  can  be  turned  to  get  you 
here,  let  me  know  it.  I'm  vour  bov.  I'm  in.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  this  Summer?  I  propose  to  go  off 
for  a  while  ;  but  don't  know  where,  yet.  *  *  *  May 
God  preserve  you  and  your  children  from  afflictions 
which  He  has  found  necessary  to  place  upon  me.  God 
bless  you  all.  I  see  good  brother  Alrick  and  Mr.  Dupont 
have  gone.     So,  soon  we  shall  pass  away! 

Affectionately  Yours, 

James  S.  Dickersox. 

Another  was  written  during  his  vacation,  when  he 
had  been  expecting  Dr.  Aikman  to  join  him  at  a 
Summer  resort.     He  writes : 

I  was  right  glad  to  hear  from  you,  but  disappointed  in 
not  seeing  you.  I  did  want  you  to  come;  but  that  dear, 
sweet  wife  of  yours  has  the  first  claim.  May  you  have 
a  happy  and  health-imparting  vacation!  This  is  a  beau- 
tiful place,  but  I  am  lonely  without  some  dear  friend  to 
commune  with  !  (Then  he  speaks  of  the  children, 
where  and  how  they  are,  and  adds:)  They  are  all  much 
saddened  by  their  mother's  death;  but  take  singularly 
clear  and  Christian  views  of  their  bereavement,  and  talk 
of  their  mamma  with  upturned  faces  and  quiet  voices,  as 
if  they  thought  her  near  enough  to  be  pained  by  any  of 
our  murmurings  or  complaints.  Ada  seems  joyful  in 
the  thought  that,  more  than  likely,  she  will  get  the  first 
7 


146 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


i"- 


reunion  kiss  from  the  lips  of  the  angel  mother.  As  for 
myself,  I  am  getting  on  slowly.  Lack  of  sleep  and  a 
dreadful  loneliness  are  my  most  inveterate  enemies.  I 
sleep  good  naps,  if  I  take  them  in  the  day;  but  the 
moment  I  go  to  bed  at  night  —  no  matter  how  sleepy  — 
the  moment  I  get  fixed  for  sound  sleep,  I  am  as  wide- 
awake, as  full  of  thought,  of  mental  activity,  as  I  vainly 
wish  to  be  in  the  daytime.  Orations,  sermons,  stump 
speeches,  repartee,  are  turned  off  with  amazing  facility. 
Then  m^''  church,  my  lost  darling,  my  little  motherless 
children,  all  come  in  turn;  my  head  throbs,  my  heart 
beats  so  as  to  be  heard,  and  I  turn  over  and  over;  get 
up:  try  to  change  the  current  of  my  thought,  and  then 
going  to  bed  again  repeat  the  same  service  until  two  or 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  *  *  *  Yesterday  1 
went  fishing^  and  came  back  with  a  fisherman's  abun- 
dant rewards  in  everything  save  fish.  That  we  nar- 
rowly escaped.  We  burnt  our  faces,  blistered  our 
hands,  tired  our  arms  and  backs,  to  say  nothing  of 
getting  our  fundamenta  honoris  quite  sore  on  the  hard 
seat  of  the  row-boat.  But  we  had  a  "  gay  "  time.  1 
getting  off  magnificent  puns,  jokes,  etc.,  which  some 
of  the  company,  though  college  boys,  didn't  see;  they 
on  the  other  hand  were  so  obviously  witty,  that  a 
man  would  be  a  fool  to  laugh  at  their  attempts  —  they 
laughed.  *  *  *  How  I  wanted  somebody  all  day 
long  to  help  me  think,  talk,  see  !  I  believe  you  were 
the  very  chap.  But  good-bye,  old  boy,  until  we  meet 
again.  May  the  favor  of  Heaven  brighten  over  yours 
and  you  until  at  length  its  finished  joys  and  glories 
shall  emparadise  us — all  of  yours,  and  all  of  mine,  and 
the  people  of  God  everywhere  and  forever. 

Affectionately,  your  brother  and  friend, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 


,■■  n 


CHAPTER  X. 


A  DOMESTIC    INTERLUDE. 


Our  previous  narrative  has  reached  the  point  of 
Mr.  Dickerson's  departure  from  Wilmington,  with 
the  sudden  illness  and  death  of  his  wife  in  Phila- 
delphia, when  he  had  started  for  Pittsburgh.    I  may 
here,   perhaps,   return   a  little   upon  my   steps   to 
introduce    some    specially  domestic    and    personal 
matters.     His  little  daughter  Ada,  during  the  year 
now  closing  (1864),  had  suffered  severely  from  her 
sore  hip  ;  abscesses  frequently  gathering  and  caus- 
ing her  intense  pain,  so  that  she  was  obliged  to  take 
frequent  doses  of  morphia  to  quiet  her.     Mr.  Dick- 
erson's  own  health,  too,  was  far   from  good.      His 
throat   troubled    him    somewhat,  his  appetite  was 
poor,  and   his   nights   often    were  nearly  sleepless. 
Yet  he  hid  his  pains   and   griefs   under  a  cheerful 
face,  and  however  heavy  were  the  burdens  he  him- 
self  was  carrying,   would    scarcely  allow    them  to 
detract  from  the  happiness  of  those  around  him. 
For  them   he  rarely  had  anything   but  words  and 
looks  of  cheer  and  comfort. 

Christmas  had  always  been  a  happy  time  in  the 
family  circle ;  the  children  being  generously  remem- 
bered by  distant  friends  and  often  bv  members  of 
his  flock,  while  the  father  and  mother  trimmed  the 

147 


148 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


merry  Christmas  tree,  and  contributed  their  utmost 
to  the  festivities  of  the  occasion.  But  this  was  a 
year  of  "war  prices;"  even  the  necessary  provisions 
were  so  high  that,  deprived  of  his  old  income  from 
the  Chronicle  it  looked  as  if  the  customary 
Christmas  luxuries  must  be  largely  dispensed  with. 
The  following  letter,  written  some  time  after  to  his 
aunt  Caroline,  wife  of  James  Stokes  (the  uncle  who 
had  so  often  generously  aided  him),  describes  this 
Christmas,  the  last  enjoyed  together  by  the  family, 
since  before  another  came  she  who  constituted  so 
largely  the  attraction  and  joy  of  this  had  been  well- 
nigh  "a  year  in  Heaven."  The  letter  was  written 
from  Pittsburgh  where  its  writer  was  then  settled. 

My  Dear  Aunt  Caroline  :  We  were  all  both 
gratified  and  surprised  at  the  appearance  of  a  nice  little 
note,  and  a  package  from  you  at  Christmas.  Accept 
the  thanks  of  a  delighted  and  grateful  circle  of  little 
folks. 

Holiday  week  was  one  of  hallowed  memories  to 
me.  Pleasant  songs  were  ringing  in  my  ears,  but  all 
seemed  to  close  with  strains  of  tender  and  almost  mel- 
ancholy sadness.  1  thought  of  the  many  happy  times 
when  dear  Julia  bought  the  toys  and  helped  to  trim  the 
Christmas  tree.  And  Fll  tell  you  now  what,  perhaps, 
I  never  referred  to  before.  Last  year — that  is,  the  year 
which  closed  with  Christmas  a  year  ago — had  been  one 
of  the  very  hardest  that  dear  Julia  and  I  had  ever  seen 
together.  Prices  were  so  high  that  with  all  our  economy 
we  were  running  behind-hand.  As  Christmas  approached 
things  looked  rather  blue,  but  we  tried  to  keep  cheerful 
hearts  and  faces.  Julia  wanted  a  pair  of  blankets,  but 
I  told  her  to  use  my  traveling  shawl,  and  so  she  did. 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


149 


i 


She  needed  some  articles  for  herself,  some  nice  gaiters 
and  several  little   things;  but   I   told   her  to  wait  until 
after  New  Year's,  and  then  we  should  not  have  to  pav 
for  them  until  our  next  salary  came  in.     So  she  waited. 
And  w^e  kept  wondering  whether  Uncle  James'  finances 
would  turn  out  so  propitiously  as  to  afford  his  generous 
present  of  several    years   preceding.      But  it  had   not 
come,  and  things  looked  a  little  bleak  at  the  parsonage. 
Soon,  however.   Uncle  James'  gift    came,   larger  than 
usual  ;    but  I  kept  it  a  secret.     The  Union  State  Com- 
mittee of  the  State  of  Delaware,  wrote  me  a  note  saying 
that  there  were  in  their  treasurer's  hands  $100,  and  the 
committee   had  unanimously  voted  to  present  it  to  me, 
as  a  token  of  their  appreciation  of  my  services  to  the 
State   and   the    country.     This    I    kept   secret.     So   on 
Christmas  morning  we  had  our  tree,  a  very  pretty  one, 
trimmed    mostly  with    the    previous    years'  ornaments, 
but,  otherwise,  our  own  contributions  to  the  Christmas 
stock  were  very  small.     But  kind  friends  remembered 
the  children,  and  when  Julia  examined  the  presents,  I 
had  bought  her  a  nice  pair  of  blankets,  a  beautiful  pair 
of  gaiters,  and   several  other  articles  she    wanted.     In 
the  toe  of  the  gaiters  were  the  letters  and  presents  from 
your  dear  husband,  and  the  Delaware  Committee.     The 
surprise    was    complete,    and    we    laughed    and    cried 
together.     It  made,  indeed,  a  very  "  merrie  Christmas," 
and  ushered  in  a  Happy  New  Year. 

My  dear  aunt,  I  do  sincerely  thank  you  and  uncle  for 
all  your  acts  of  kindness,  and  all  your  thoughts  of  love 
to  Julia,  to  me,  and  the  children.  My  poverty  is  volun- 
tary and  for  Christ's  sake.  Three  times  have  I  declined 
very  eligible  positions  of  profit,  and  twice  have  T  been 
offered  a  handsome  interest  in  a  large  and  prosperous 
business.     But  I  am  happy ^  cofttented  now,  and  should 


150 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


r 


be  very  unhappy  out  of  the  ministry.     I  sometimes  cry 
for  joy  when  I  realize  that  I  am  a  minister  of  Christ — 
honored  of  Him,  approved  of  Him.     I  feel  at  times  very 
lonely,    and,    when    not  just    well,  I    feel    discouraged. 
The    terrible    loss   of  .Julia,    while    I    know    it    was  in 
infinite  wisdom  and  unbounded  love  that  she  was  taken 
away  from  her  children   and  from  me,  has  a  depressing 
influence  upon   me.     But  I  always  strive  to  be,  or  at 
least  to  seem,  cheerful.     My  surroundings  here— all  but 
the  smoke  and  soot — are  very  pleasant.     My  church  are 
united  in  me,  and  are,  in  general,  a  kind,  thoughtful, 
and  liberal  people.     *     *     *     Our  new  chapel  will  be 
done  in  the  Summer;  the  main  edifice,  we  hope,  the  fol- 
lowing Spring.     The  whole  afi'air  will  be  fine  but  not 
fantastic.     Our   congregations    are    increasing,  and  are 
more  than  double  what  they  were  when  I  came.    Several 
have  been  recently  baptized;  some   are  ready  for  the 
ordinance,  and  others  are  serious.     Do  pray  that  God 
may  greatly  bless    my  labors    here.     The    children  are 
about  as  usual.     Ada  has   had  one  of  her   poor  turns, 
but  is   now   better.     She    and  Lulu   are    making   good 
progress  in  music,  and  the  latter  is  going  to  be  quite  an 
adept  at  the  piano.     The   two  boys   are  well.     Give  my 
love   to   Uncle  James.     His  kindness   and   love  toward 
my  dear  family  have  embalmed  his  memory  in  my  heart. 
Give  my  love  also  to  each  of  the  dear  children  at  home 
and  abroad. 

God  bless  and  keep  you,  and  reward  your  life  and 
labor  of  love  to  many  whom  you  have  helped  to  make 
happy,  of  whom,  perhaps,  I  am  chief. 

Affectionately, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

This  letter  is  one  among  the  numberless  illus- 
trations of  his  unfailing  resources  of  buoyancy  and 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


151 


brightness  of  temper ;  how  he  was  cheerful  where 
others  were  despondent,  and  hopeful  where  others 
would  be  despairing. 

The  course  of  the  narrative  has  now  reached  a 
point  where  reference  to  herself  personally,  in  view 
of  relations  subsequently  formed,  has  become  a 
necessity  to  the  author  of  this  memoir.  The  reader 
will  appreciate  the  delicacy  of  this  part  of  the 
writer's  duty,  and  will  pardon  the  detail  which 
could  not  well  be  omitted  in  the  history  of  a  life 
with  which  her  own  became  so  closely  and  tenderly 
united. 

Mr.  Dickerson's  second  wife  was  the  daughter  of 
Professor  J.  F.  Richardson,  who  filled  the  chair  of 
Latin  in  the  Hamilton  Literary  and  Theological 
Seminary,  subsequently  Madison  University;  also, 
in  his  later  life,  the  same  professorship  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Rochester.  She  was  born  in  1842,  the 
year  in  which  Mr.  Dickerson  went  as  a  student  to 
Hamilton.  He  had  known  her,  therefore,  as  a  very 
little  girl ;  while,  naturally,  she  retained  no  recollec- 
tion of  him.  They  did  not  meet,  after  that,  until 
1862,  when  she  was  teaching  in  Dover,  the  capital 
of  Delaware,  whither  she  had  gone,  a  total  stranger 
in  the  State,  as  instructress  in  a  ladies'  school.  Mr. 
Dickerson,  happening  to  be  in  Rochester  in  the  Fall, 
called  upon  his  old  Hamilton  instructors,  and  among 
them  upon  Professor  Richardson,  who  had  then 
resided  twelve  years  in  Rochester.  Learning  that 
the  little  girl  whom  he  remembered  having  tossed  in 
his  arms  at  Hamilton,  had  now  reached  the  dignity 
of  a  Delaware  school-mistress,  he  said  that,  as  he 


i 


.^1 


152 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


i, 


was  soon  to  be  in  Dover,  at  the  meeting  of  an  asso- 
ciation, he  would  call  upon  her.  He  was  prevented, 
however,  from  coming,  and  about  Christmas  time, 
sent  the  following  letter  : 

■  Wilmington,  Del.,  Dec.  19,  1862. 

Miss  Emma  Richardson  —  My  Dear  Sister:  It  has 
been  for  several  weeks  my  intention  to  make  a  visit  to 
Dover,  if  possible,  that  1  might  renew  a  very  pleasant 
acquaintance,  made  with  a  shy  little  girl  of  your  name, 
twenty  years  ago.  I  have  thus  far  been  prevented  from 
realizing  this  desire.  But  "as  the  mountain  would  not 
come  to  Mahomet,  so  Mahomet  must  needs  go  to  the 
mountain,"  and  it  has  occurred  to  my  wife  and  me,  that 
your  present  few  days  of  vacation  (I  suppose  you  have 
one  at  holiday  time)  might  be  pleasantly  spent  with  us  at 
Wilmington.  If  you  can  make  it  convenient,  we  shall 
be  very  much  pleased  to  have  you  spend  the  week  at 
our  house.  If  you  will  let  me  know  the  day  and  train 
on  which  you  leave,  we  will  meet  you  at  the  cars. 
With  many  wishes  for  your  success  and  happiness,  and 
hoping  soon  to  greet  you  at  our  "  parsonage," 

Very  truly  your  friend, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

P.  S. — Should  any  other  time  suit  you  better,  we  shall 
be  glad  to  have  you  accommodate  yourself.  You  will 
always  be  welcome. 

The  invitation  was  accepted,  and  the  time  stated 
at  which  the  person  so  invited  would  reach  Wilming- 
ton. It  was  natural  that  there  should  be  some 
perplexity  of  mind  in  considering  how,  under  such 
circumstances,  a  mutual  recognition  would  be  possi- 
ble.    The  woman  whom  Mr.  Dickerson  was  to  meet, 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


153 


, 


'f 


\ 


could  scarcely  offer  much  resemblance  to  the  child 
of  six  years,  whom  he  had  known  in  Hamilton. 
To  her,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  simply  been 
described  as  a  neatly-dressed,  dapper  little  fellow, 
with  a  handsome  face  and  with  very  curly  hair. 
She,  of  course,  was  in  expectation,  simply,  of  meet- 
ing one  who  should  answer  to  this  description.  On 
arriving  at  Wilmington  she  took  her  seat  in  the 
waiting-room,  and  began  to  scan  the  comers -in. 
Soon  a  young  and  handsome  gentleman  made  his 
appearance,  who  seemed  so  evidently  the  original  of 
the  picture  in  her  mind,  that  she  at  once  said  to 
herself,  '•'•  That  is,  certainly,  Mr.  Dickerson."  He 
stood  near  the  entrance,  looked  all  about  the  room 
inquiringly,  and  then,  with  a  disappointed  air,  slowly 
walked  out.  *'  He  will  be  back  again,  soon,"  was  her 
thought ;  and  so  he  was.  He  came,  this  time,  to  the 
center  of  the  room,  took  his  position  there,  and 
slowly  scanned  every  person  sitting  in  the  seats  on 
three  sides  of  it.  As  it  came  her  turn  to  be 
inspected,  she  saw  that  his  eye  rested  a  moment, 
and  he  looked  as  if  he  were  saying :  ''  It  must  be, 
but  it  can't  be  she  I"  She  looked  directly  at  him  ; 
he  came  toward  her,  touched  his  hat,  and  in  the 
most  polite  manner,  said  :  *'  Madam,  are  you  from 
Dover?"  ''Are  vou  Mr.  Dickerson?"  was  the 
reply.  He  immediately  extended  his  hand,  arnd  with 
a  most  cordial  look  and  grasp,  said,  ''  Well,  Emma, 
I  suppose  you  did  not  expect  to  see  such  a  little 
man  as  I  am,  and  I  am  sure  I  did  not  expect  to  see 
such  a  great  woman  as  you  are." 

These  details  of  our  introduction  may  be  allowed 


I 


154 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


here.  The  indulgent  reader  will  permit  them  to 
one  who  is  in  subsequent  pages  to  record  incidents 
of  a  relation,  so  happy  and  endearing,  into  which 
she  was  led  by  the  hand  of  a  kind  Providence  —  a 
relation  which,  while  it  has  involved  painful  and 
solemn  duties,  has  abundantly  counterbalanced  them 
by  joys  which,  to  the  end  of  life,  will  be  a  store- 
house of  happy  memories.  The  writer  soon  found 
herself  very  much  at  home  at  the  parsonage.  Julia 
and  herself  were  ever  after,  during  the  brief 
remaining  life  of  the  former,  close  friends  and  cor- 
respondents. 

Adopting,  now,  the  first   person  m  speaking  of 
these  events,  I  may  mention  that  I  had  been  visiting 
in  Philadelphia  during  the  Winter  that  Mr.  Knapp 
preached   for   Mr.  Dickerson,  and   spent  the  week 
previous  to  his  coming,  with  Julia,  while  her  husband 
was  in  Pittsburgh.     He  returned  home  on  Saturday 
evening,  and  I  left  on  Monday  morning  for  New 
York.    Late  on  that  Saturday  evening,  after  the  chil- 
dren were  all  asleep,  we  three  sat  and  talked  together 
about  Pittsburgh.    As  my  opinion  was  asked  on  many 
subjects   relating   to   the   removal   thither,  I  made 
several  suggestions,  adding   the   familiar  language, 
"If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should  do  so  and  so  in 
your  new  house."     How  little  did  I  dream   that  I 
actually   was,  in   the   Providence  of  God,  to   take 
Julia's  place  in  that  Pittsburgh  home,  and  that  I  was 
planning  for  myself  instead  of  for  her.     When,  on 
the  following  Monday  morning,  I  bade  her  good-bye, 
it  was  under  a  promise  that  she  would  come  in  the 
Summer,  with  Ada  and  her  husband,  and  visit  us  in 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


155 


I 


Rochester ;  but  the  visit  was  not  made,  and  I  saw 
her  no  more.  She  had  gone,  ere  the  Summer,  to 
her  new  but  Heavenly  home. 

I  here  make  some  extracts  from  letters  received 
during  the  few  years  of  my  acquaintance  with  Julia. 
I  sent  her  at  one  time  a  handsome  velvet  pincushion, 
with  a  silk-lined  slipper  upon  it,  and  as  she  was  in 
New  York  with  Ada  when  the  gift  and  letter 
arrived,  Mr.  Dickerson  answered  it  for  her.  Here 
is  the  letter : 

Wilmington,  April  22,  1864. 

My  Dear  Emma  :  Your  beautiful  present,  and  long, 
good  letter,  came  duly  to  hand.  Mrs.  D.  was  away,  but 
that  does  not  make  the  sliijhtest  difference.  Zread  the 
letter,  every  word  of  it,  and  appreciated  it,  and  am  now 
answering  it.  My  wife  always  leaves  home  with  the 
idea  that  everything  will  go  "by  sixes  and  sevens,"  in 
her  absence,  but  I  think  I  can  "run  the  machine,"  and 
answer  letters  to  young  ladies,  just  as  well  as  she 
can.  And,  in  fact,  if  I  have  received  anything  like 
correct  information  on  the  subject,  the  ladies  like  to 
have  me  do  it.  There  may  be  a  breeze,  however,  when 
Mrs.  D.  comes  home.  She  has  been  gone  two  weeks, 
and  Spencer  and  I  are  alone;  Martha,  the  colored  cook, 
being  all  our  society.  I  am  managing  aflfairs  splendidly, 
and  Martha  and  Spencer  seem  to  be  the  only  dissatisfied 
persons  about  the  entire  establishment.  Spencer  thinks 
that  "  hash  '*  and  roast  apples  three  times  a  day  for  two 
weeks,  is  not  as  great  a  variety  as  they  have  at  the  St. 
Nicholas;  and  Martha  is  full  of  odious  comparisons  if  I 
happen  to  over-sleep  in  the  morning,  or  forget  to  send 
home  any  apples  or  meat.  And  for  the  inadvertence  of 
leaving  the  cellar  without  coal  for  a  couple  of  days,  I  have 


156 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


■ 
t  ■ 


been  treated  by  her  with  very  dark  looks,  and  a  general 
coldness.  But  I  think  our  domestic  arrangements  are 
quite  serene,  and  if  my  wife  expects  that  everything  is 
going  to  be  knocked  into  ";?r' (Spencer  would  rejoice 
at  such  a  consummation,  if  they  were  of  the  right  ti/pe) 
while  she  is  gone,  she  will  be  profoundly  mistaken. 
Still  I  do  not  think  house-keeping  is  exactly  my  forte, 
yet  I  never  yield  that  I  can^t  take  care  of  things  when 
Mrs.  D.  is  away,  although  I  have  been  convinced  of  it 
for  years. 

With  this  "Apology  for  Letters,"  I  will  enter  more 
at  large   and   formally  upon  a  reply  to  vour  welcome 
favor  of  the  13th  inst.     It  was  quite  in  accordance  with 
a  custom  of  great  antiquity,  that  you   should   throw  a 
shoe  after  my  wife,  as  a  sort  of  God-speed  on  her  jour- 
neyings  and  visit  to  that  great  and   wicked   city.  New 
York.     The  only  mystery  is  that  it  should  have  fallen  so 
gracefully  and  securely  on  the  elegant  cushion.     But,  as 
the  mystery  is  with  you,  and  the  beautiful^c^^  are  with 
us  (locked  up  in  my  wife's  lower  drawer,  with  her  crape 
shawl  and  other  valuables  too  nice  for  the  common  eye), 
we  should  not  be  over  curious.     Accept  my  thanks,  and 
my  good  Julia's  thanks,  too,  for  a  gift  which  so  nicely 
memorializes  your  good  taste,  and  your  love  to  us.    Julia, 
I    know,  will   assert  her  independence,  and  write  you 
a   letter  of    acknowledgement    in   her    own    name,    and 
expressing,  more  happily  than  I  can  do  for  her,  all  her 
appreciati(m  of  your  thoughtful  kindness.     Her  princi- 
pal   object  in  going  to  New  York,  was  to   consult   with 
the  best  doctors  in  regard  to  Ada.      I  think  from  all  she 
says  in  her  letters,  that  a  severe  and  rather  dangerous 
operation  will  be  recommended,  to  take  place  next  Fall. 
This,  of  course,  will  never  relieve  Ada's  lameness,  but 
perhaps   stop   the    further   progress  of   the  disease  — a 
decay  of  the  hip  bone. 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


15T 


. 


« 


We  are  all  in  usual  health,  save  the  present  "  presiding 
elder  "  of  the  domestic  institution  of  909  Market  Street. 
His  principal  trouble  is  the  sleeps,  which  take  him  at  all 
hours  of  the  dai/,  but  are  never  dangerous  at  night.  Tn 
other  words,  I  am  a  little  bit  run  down,  and  want  rest 
from  care  and  brain  work  of  any  kind.  My  sympathetic 
nature  is  drawn  upon  too  much  in  all  my  professional 
work,  simply  because  it  is  natural  to  me  ;  and  second, 
because  1  am  not  in  vigorous  health  just  now.  If  the 
way  opens,  I  am  resolved  upon  a  trip  over  the  water  ! 
So  Hattie's  married  !  May  bright  and  Heavenly  bles- 
sings attend  her !  When  I  first  saw  her,  she  was  a  shy 
little  roll  of  pretty  calico,  with  a  modest  little  face  at 
the  top,  and  a  nimble  pair  of  feet  as  motors.  She  and  a 
very  pleasant  little  sister,  used  to  play  under  a  magnifi- 
cent and  wide-spreading  tree,  in  front  of  a  white  house 
with  green  blinds,  in  Hamilton. 

Pleasant  days  those  to  us  all.  Hard  and  poorly  remu- 
nerated days  to  that  father  and  mother  of  yours,  Emma, 
but  happy,  I  know,  even  to  them.  To  me,  those  were 
my  brightest,  happiest  hours.  And  although  there 
hangs  (to  me,  and  I  dare  say  to  you)  a  cloud  over 
Hamilton's  later  history,  so  far  as  pertains  to  the  joy  and 
brightness  which  once  reigned  there,  yet  my  Hamilton 
course  dwells  in  my  memory  like  the  sweet  fragments 
of  some  delightful  music  not  altogether  forgotten. 
And  the  friends  of  Hamilton  are  the  ones  I  love  to-day. 
Aside  from  its  greatness  as  a  glorious  denominational 
enterprise,  which  has  ever  challenged  my  respect,  and 
received  my  heartiest  co-operation,  what  I  love  most  at 
Rochester  is  what  was  transplanted  there  from  Hamilton. 
Of  course  Dr.  Anderson's  family  have  peculiar  ties  in 
my  heart.  But  I  must  close  (without  wanting  to).  In 
church  matters  we  are  rather  at  a  standstill  ;  very  good 


m 


158 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


congregations,  but  few  coming  to  « the  Fountain  of  Life." 
I  am  not  enjoying  the  same  freedom  in  my  pulpit  work, 
as  I  do  when  converts  are  multiplying.  I  long  for  a  time 
of  refreshment,  for  myself  and  my  people.  Oh,  what  a 
glorious  work  preaching  is,  when  sowing  and  reaping  is 
,  all  done  at  once  !  Give  my  love  to  father,  mother,  and 
the  children  generally  ;  accepting  a  generous  allowance 
as  your  share.     May  God's  blessing  be  with  you  all. 

Affectionately  yours, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

We  give  below  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Dickerson,  in 
which  reference  is  made  to  her  husband's  work  for 
the  State,  and  in  the  hospitals ;  and  which,  in  many 
respects,  is  a  characteristic  one  : 

Wilmington,  Friday,  June  25th. 

My  Dear  Emma  :  I  wonder  what  you  think  of  me  ? 
I  know  it  is  really  shabby  of  me  not  to  write  sooner  ;  but 
really  I  did  intend  to,  only  somehow  the  intention  was 
not  enough.  I  have  thought  of  you  so  often,  and  wished 
I  could  expect  you  here  again.  I  hope  you  may  be 
fixed  so  as  to  be  near  here  another  season. 

Of  course  I  have  been  very  busy!  Am  1  not  always? 
If  I  did  not  have  stockings  to  mend,  and,  equally 
important,  babies  to  look  after,  I  should  go  off  as  a 
foreign  missionary,  and  make  myself  famous.  *  *  * 
1  am  regularly  installed  now  as  organist,  director-in-chief 
of  music,  etc.,  etc.  !  !  *  *  *  Mr.  Dickerson  preached 
at  the  Hospital  two  weeks  ago,  and  had  family  prayers 
there  twice  on  Tuesday  and  Friday.  The  city  ministers 
are  to  take  turns  holding  services  there.  A  short  time 
ago  Mr.  Dickerson  went  to  Chicago,  and  while  he  was 
gone  I  went  to  house  cleaning,  and  was  nearly  through 


f 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


159 


when  he  came  home.  You  can  imagine  I  was  busy 
then.  Bridget  took  it  into  her  head  to  get  sick  one 
Saturday,  and  I  had  all  the  baking,  cooking,  and  work 
to  do  for  three  days,  and  Mr.  Dickerson  sick  all  the  time. 

0,  but  I  was  tired  !  We  had  a  most  delightful  visit 
over  at  Mrs.  L's  the  other  day,  when  they  fairly  stuffed 
us  with  strawberries  and  cream,  and  sent  us  some  three 
different  times  besides,  and  splendid  ones,  too.  M.  spoke 
of  you,  and  wished  you  were  there  with  us,  and  so  did 

1,  for  I  knew  you  would  have   enjoyed  it.     Delaware  is 
now  well   represented  in  the  army.     The  last  send-off 
was  rather  a  joke  ;  a  sorry  joke  for  some,  too.     The  5th 
Delaware,  of  which   my   respected   partner  is  chaplain 
(the  glory   may   be  great,  but  the   pay   is  small),    was 
suddenly  ordered  off  to  Fort  Delaware,  with  about  an 
hour's  warning.     It  was  composed  mostly  of  gentlemen 
in  business   here,  and  it  made  the  greatest  excitement. 
Some    had   to    close   their   places  of   business  entirely, 
others  leaving  them  in  charge  of  a  boy.    It  was  amusincr, 
though,  for  all.     The  Sunday  schools  are  pretty  much 
deprived  of  male  teachers;  and  the  choir  of  the  church 
over  the  way  had  not  a  man  left  in  it.     It  took  from  the 
Dupont  Mills  one  hundred  men,  and  from  other  places 
accordingly.     A  part  of  the  regiment  left  on  Saturday, 
and  the  remainder  were  as  suddenly  ordered  off  Sunday 
evening.     When   we   came   out  from  church,  the   street 
was  so  crowded   we  could  not  get  to  the  pavement  for 
some  time.     The  drums  were  beating,  the  fifes  playing 
Yankee   Doodle,  and  it  was  altogether  unlike  Sunday. 
The  church   over  the  way  had  quite  a  shaking  up  on  a 
recent  Sabbath.     A  young  man  preached  a  strong  Union 
sermon,  and  a  few  of  the  "  Coppers  "  could  not  stand  it, 
and  seven  of  them  got  up  and  went  out,  among  them 
our  next  door  neighbor.     It  has  made  a  great  deal  of 


..«(to.»-i,».,-SI»,»_ 


I 


160 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSOK. 


fun.  Ada  has  been  sick  for  a  week  back,  with  a  mild 
kind  of  typhoid  fever,  but  is  getting  better  slowly.  Her 
leg  is  very  bad  and  painful.  She  just  begins  to  sit  up 
now.  Spencer  has  gone  off  on  a  sailing  voyage  with  his 
friend,  Le  Roy  Webster,  to  Cape  Henlopen. 

How  I  do  wish  you  lived  near  us  !  I  kinder  sort  o' 
feel  that  I  have  a  claim  upon  you  !  When  are  you  to  be 
married?  The  coming  Winter?  Mr.  Dickerson  wishes 
particularly  to  be  remembered  to  his  friend  Emma. 
Remember  me  kindly  to  your  father,  mother,  and  sister. 

As  ever,  Julia. 

All  these  letters  will  show  how  poor  and  precarious 
Mr.  Dickerson's  health  was,  and  yet  how  constantly 
he  kept  at  his  work.  We  give  an  extract  from 
another  one,  from  him,  written  in  October,  1864, 
after  a  stay  of  a  day  or  so  in  Rochester  during  his 
Summer  vacation: 

My  Dear  Emma:    Your  letters,  ever  welcome,  will  be 
still    more    so    now   that   I    have   revived    the    pleasant 
associations  of  the  past,  as  they  gather  about  your  much 
loved  family  circle.     My  last  visit  has  recovered  much 
that   seemed  lost  to  memory,  besides  adding  new  treas- 
ures to  my  store.     I  did  have  a  very  pleasant  visit,  and 
I  can  not  wait  until  the  close  of  this  letter  to  send  my 
love  to  father,  mother,  and  all  the  children.     May  God's 
infinite  goodness  be  round   about  the  household,  as  an 
angel  of  mercy  and  guidance  to  the  better  land,  where 
we  all,  in  Christ,  shall  happily  and  eternally  meet!    Since 
my  return,  our  little  Ada  has  seen  many  dark  days  and 
nights  of  intensest  suffering.     But  for  several  days  she 
has  been   free  from   sharp   pain— the  abscesses    having 
broken— and  she  enjoys  tolerably  good  sleep,  either  with 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


161 


or  without  an  opiate.  She  has  a  famous  appetite,  which 
we  sit  by  and  feed  with  all  the  delights  of  parental 
cainiibalism.  And  to  be  sure  of  the  path  of  duty,  it  is 
"  not  by  bread  alone,"  but  by  chickens,  birds,  chops,  and 
all  the  delicacies  of  the  season  which  we  can  honestly 
lay  our  hands  to.  This  is  the  only  hopeful  sign  in  her 
little  sky,  so  strangely  darkened  and  disturbed.  But 
she  is  patient  always,  and,  when  not  in  the  very  pinch 
of  pain,  quite  happy  and  contented.  The  rest  of  us  are 
as  usual.  I  am  pretty  well,  although  I  had  a  sort  of 
bilious  knock-down  a  week  or  so  ago,  in  which  I  think  I 
rather  got  the  worst  of  it.  I  don't  care  to  try  it  again. 
My  eyes  are  decidedly  better.  All  send  love.  Julia 
will  write  soon.  Affectionatelv  vours. 

James   S.  Dickersox. 

It  will  be  seen  how  tenderly,  in  this  last  letter, 
he  speaks  of  Ada,  who  was,  indeed,  a  constant  suf- 
ferer. Her  afflictions  had  commenced  when  she 
was  two  years  old.  Recovering  from  an  attack  of 
sore  eyes,  she  had  a  severe  fall  which  injured  her  hip 
and  sent  the  disease  there.  It  gradually  increased 
in  severity  until  repeated  abscesses  were  formed, 
and  when  she  was  nine  years  old  there  were  five  or 
six  open  sores  .upon  her  hip.  For  weeks  while  they 
were  forming,  she  would  often  scream  from  the 
intense  pain;  while  her  father  and  mother,  often 
through  long  and  weary  weeks,  were  night  and  day 
unremitting  in  their  attentions.  Ada  was  a  child 
alike  beautiful  in  face  and  lovely  in  character.  Her 
constant  association  with  older  people  rendered  her 
more  than  ordinarily  mature  ;  she  was  gentle  and 
loving,  grateful  for  every  kindness,  and  disposed  to 


f 


162 


JAMES  S.  DICKER80N. 


do  all  in  her  power  for  herself.     She  was  devotedly 
fond  of  reading,  enjoyed    having   her  mother  read 
aloud  to  her,  and  listening  to  the  stories  spun  from 
the  fertile  brain  of  her  father ;  stories  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, of  the  Indians,  of  everything,  often  exquisitely 
humorous,  often  ingeniously  and  delicately  inculcat- 
ing some  moral  useful  lesson  ;  and,  in  their  racy  droll- 
ery, as  interesting  to  the  grown  folks  as  they  were 
to  the  children.     Ada,  too,  inherited  much  of  her 
father's  cheerfulness  and  playfulness  of  spirit,  of  his 
humor  and  his  wit,  as  well  as  of  his  uncomplaining 
patience  and  fortitude  amidst  suffering.     Yet  well 
might  the    sunny   cheerfulness   often   give  way  to 
pensive  sadness,  when  sometimes  she  was  for  weeks 
so  sore  that  she  could  only  be  moved  on  a  sheet, 
and  the  jar  of  a  footstep  in  the  room  threw  her  into 
a  nervous  torture. 

She  had  a  natural  ear  for  music,  caught  tunes 
readily,  and  was  the  dependence  in  singing  of  the 
infant-class  in  the  Sabbath  school ;  so  much  so  that, 
when  she  was  prepared  to  enter  the  main  school,  she 
was  retained  in  this  as  the  head  singer.  Thus  her 
musical  talent  seemed  the  handmaid  of  piety ;  and, 
when  a  very  little  child,  sleeping  in  a  trundle-bed 
near  her  parents,  she  awoke  them  one  night  by  sing- 
ing, in  a  clear,  ringing  voice,  the  hymn  containing 
the  words, 

Let  113  walk  in  the  light, 
In  the  light  of  God. 

From  some  notes  made  by  her  father  reffardin<y 
her  with  the  purpose  of  embalming  her  history  in  a 
Sabbath  school  book,  I  make  a  few  extracts : 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


163 


Ada,  though  she  was  not  a  natural  Christian,  loved  to 
read  her  Bible  and  to  hear  it  read.  She  had  a  pretty 
little  Testament,  and  in  May,  18G4,  as  I  went  to  visit 
the  wounded  soldiers  of  the  Republic,  she  lent  it  to  me. 
I  gave  it  to  Ira  C.  Ritch,  from  Hendersonville,  Pa.  He 
was  shot  in  the  shoulder;  had  a  wife  and  four  children 
at  home.  "  My  hope  is  strong  in  Jesus,  but  I  miss  my 
Bible,"  he  said.  I  gave  him  Ada's,  and  her  satisfaction 
was  unmingled  when  I  told  her  about  it.  She  soon  was 
presented  with  a  Bible,  which  she  often  kept  under  her 
pillow,  and  in  which  she  marked  many  passages  she 
loved.  Her  favorite  chapter  was  the  14th  of  John, 
beginning:  "  Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled:  ye  believe 
in  God,  believe  also  in  me.  In  my  Father's  house  are 
many  mansions:  if  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told 
you.     I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you." 

Feb,  12,  1865.  I  preached  in  Pittsburgh — went  home 
to  a  glorious  revival ! 

March  9.  Sydney  Ross,  our  children's  nurse,  gave 
her  experience.  Ada  was  converted  shortly  after.  Her 
experience  on  Monday  evening.  May  1,  1865.  How  she 
spoke,  leaning  on  her  crutches  !  Among  other  things, 
she  said,  "  I  think  I  ought  to  love  the  Bible  more ! " 
Her  mamma  and  oldest  brother  baptized  with  her  on 
Wednesday  evening.  May  3.  How  sweetly  she  acted  in 
the  baptistry,  as  the  deacons  lifted  her  down  to  me,  and 
lifted  her  from  my  arms  after  baptism!  while  the  choir 
sang. 

Thou  hast  said,  exalted  Jesus, 

"  Take  thy  cro»s  and  follow  me." 
Shall  the  word  with  terror  seize  us? 
Shall  we  from  the  burden  flee  ? 

Lord,  I'll  take  it. 
And  rejoicing— follow  thee. 

This  hymn  was  ever  a  favorite  with  her  and  with  me. 


164 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


A   DOMESTIC   INTERLUDE. 


165 


May  7.  I  gave  them  the  hand  of  fellowship.  We 
gathered  at  the  Lord's  table.  It  was  the  first,  and— on 
earth— the  last  time  we  were  all  together.  The  next 
communion  was  in  Pittsburgh!  Spencer,  Ada,  Sydney 
Ross!  Again  the  hand  of  fellowship  —  o/i6  was  not 
there. 

Thus  much  from  her  father's  notes.  Ada  believed 
that  if  she  had  not  been  "afflicted"  she  should 
have  continued  to  go  -  astray  ;  "  that  to  the  sorrow 
of  her  hfe  she  owed  her  life  eternal.  Of  her  con- 
version she  said :  -  I  put  my  head  under  the  covers 
that  night  and  asked  God  to  forgive  me,  and  he  did." 
Her  prayers  were  habitually  earnest,  direct,  full  of 
simple  faith— like  her  father's.  One  incident,  in 
this  record  of  a  child,  we  may  be  pardoned  for  nar- 
rating : 

One  cold  winter  night,  kneeling  by  her  father  to 
say  her  little  prayer,  and  appreciating  her  warm  and 
comfortable    home,    she    prayed:     "And   now,    O 
Lord,  bless  the  poor   people.     If   they  are  hungry 
give  them  food  to  eat ;  if  they  are  cold,  give  th'^m 
clothing,  and  send  them  some  coal ;  and,  even  if 
they  are  naughty.  Lord,  do  bless  them,  do."     When 
she  rose  from  her  knees,  she  said,  -  Now,  papa,  I 
suppose  that,  to-morrow,  when  the  Lord  sends  the 
coal  and  the  other  things  to  the  poor  people,  they 
will  think  that  some  big  folks,  like  you  or  mamma, 
prayed  for  them.    They  will  not  think  it  was  a  little 
lame  girl,  will    they?"      The  next   day  in    Phila- 
delphia, Mr.  Dickerson   met  a  city  missionary  with 
whom  he  was  well  acquainted,  and  told  him  of  Ada^s 
prayer.     He  said,  "  Well,  go  home  and   tell   your 


little  girl  that  the  Lord  has  answered  her  prayer 
and  helped  the  poor  people,  and  that,  too,  when 
they  were  naughty  and  had  very  little  faith."  He 
then  related  to  him  how,  that  morning,  when  he  felt 
that  he  could  not  look  presentable  on  the  next  Sab- 
bath in  his  very  shabby  suit,  and  yet  knew  not  how 
he  could  get  a  better  one ;  when  he  needed  coal  and 
food  and  necessaries  for  his  family,  he  had  come  to 
the  city,  and,  walking  down  Chestnut  Street,  had 
fallen  in  with  a  wealthy  Baptist,  the  proprietor  of  a 
large  clothing  establishment.  This  gentleman  knew 
him  well  and  the  good  work  he  was  doing  in  the 
city.  He  said  to  him,  after  a  few  minute's  conver- 
sation, ''  I  want  to  know,  now,  if  that  is  the  best 
suit  of  clothes  you  have."  He  replied  that  it  was. 
'*  Well,  come  with  me,  and  I  think  we  can  improve 
your  appearance."  He  took  him  to  his  store,  fitted 
him  out  with  a  new  suit  and  overcoat,  gave  him 
money  for  a  hat  and  boots,  and  a  check  for  the  pur- 
chase of  some  home  necessaries.  Ada  was  delighted 
at  hearing  the  story,  and  believed  that  the  incident 
was  a  direct  answer  to  her  prayer.  Perhaps  we  may 
share  her  faith,  even  though  the  term  ''  naughty " 
did  not  quite  hit  the  mark  that  she  intended.  She 
certainly  was  not  thinking  of  praying  missionaries. 
But  the  great  Prayer-hearer  is  sovereign  in  His 
answers. 

These  incidents  give  a  glimpse  of  Mr.  Dickerson's 
home  life,  of  the  burdens  he  had  to  bear,  while  they 
show  some  of  his  own  traits  reproduced  in  the  char- 
acter of  his  child.  Unfortunately  he  was  not  soli- 
tary in  those  sad  domestic  experiences.     How  many 


n' 


^ffff^fywrnffifi'if^ 


1G6 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


a  life  shines  out  in  brightness  upon  the  public  from 
a  darkened  home  and  a  burdened  heart  I  But  with 
few  has  there  been  greater  harmony  between  the 
public  and  the  domestic  life  than  with  him.  When 
the  light  did  not  shine  round  him  from  without,  it 
sprang  like  a  living  fountain  from  within. 

The  illness  of  his  daughter  was  not  his  only  afflic- 
tion of  this  nature.  The  last  letter  given  from  him 
of  October,  1864,  referred  to  an  improved  condition 
of  his  eyes.  He  had  been  through  a  very  severe 
attack  of  typhoid  pneumonia,  in  which  his  phy- 
sicians had  given  him  over,  and  he  lay  seemingly  on 
the  verge  of  the  grave.  His  children  had  been  sent 
away;  bells  in  the  neighborhood  were  muffled,  and 
all  was  shrouded  in  the  gloom  of  impending  death. 
A  little  incident  so  inconirruous  with  the  circum- 

o 

stances,  seems  yet  so  characteristically  fitted  to  him, 
that  we  can  scarce  avoid  narrating  it.  His  children 
had  been  separated  from  him  for  more  than  a  week. 
In  an  hour  of  a  little  relaxing  of  the  severity  of 
the  disease  he  had  them  sent  for,  and  as  the  little 
ones  gathered  around  the  bedside,  he  asked  them  if 
they  could  not  sing  a  little  song  for  papa.  They 
readily  complied,  but  with  a  child-like  obliviousness 
to  the  tragic  character  of  the  scene,  and  to  his 
laughing  horror,  instead  of  the  expected  "  I  want  to 
be  an  angel,"  or  *'  There  is  a  happy  land,'*  they 
piped  up,  in  animated  chorus, 

A  frog  went  a  courting;  he  did  ride, 
Sword  and  pistol  l)y  his  side, 

and  so  on  through  all  the  frolicking  stanzas.  The 
uncontrollable  laughter  from  which,  in  his  weakness, 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


167 


he  feared  disastrous  consequences,  proved,  perhaps, 
a  good  medicine,  and  illustrated  in  a  way  that  the 
"Preacher"  never  thought  of,  the  truth  of  his 
apophthegm  that  ''  there  is  a  time  to  laugh." 

On  his  recovery  his  eyes  continued  for  a  long  time 
so  weak  that  he  could  scarcely  use  them  at  all  in  the 
evening.  My  father,  learning  his  condition,  wrote 
to  him,  proposing  that  he  should  join  my  sister  and 
her  husband  in  a  trip  to  Colorado  and  Utah,  as  likely 
to  prove  very  serviceable.     He  replied  as  follows  : 

July  6,  1804. 

To  Prof.  J.  F.  Richardson.— Jfy  dear  friend :  Your 
kind  letter  to  me  of  a  recent  date,  and  that  to  Mrs.  D. 
from  Emma,  are  at  hand  and  duly  appreciated.  The 
interest  you  both  evince  in  my  personal  welfare  is  a 
source  of  true  satisfaction  to  me,  as  I  feel  that  our  old 
friendships  are  still  warm.  As  for  Emma,  my  entire 
household  has  long  since  marked  her  as  a  rare  specimen 
of  "  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the  good,"  and  her 
appearance  in  our  circle  knocked  one  of  my  favorite 
proverbs  high  as  a  kite;  viz.,  that  about  valuable  fabrics 
being  done  up  in  small  packages. 

As  to  going  to  Utah,  my  wife  seems  to  think  that  you 
have  got  the  idea  into  your  heads  that  she  is  in  poor 
health,  and  that,  therefore,  the  matrimonial  atmosphere 
of  Salt  I^ake  is  recommended  to  me.  She  says  her  eves 
are  not  yet  impaired,  and  "  she  don't  see  it "  at  all.  Our 
arrangements  are  all  completed  for  a  different  trip;  so, 
much  as  I  should  delight  in  being  one  of  the  merry 
party  to  Salt  Lake  City,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  undertake 
it.  I  go  for  a  few  days  to  the  seaside,  starting  next 
week.  I  shall  leave  Julia  and  my  little  sick  girl  there, 
and,  with  the  others,  go  to  New  York  and  spend  a  few 


'  r^lT 


(I 


I  I 


168 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


weeks  on  Long  Island  Sound  at  my  brother's.  I  may 
get  to  Rochester  to  Commencement.  I  must  have  a 
good,  long  rest,  and  my  church  have  voted  me  two 
months  if  necessary.     With  love  to  all,  I  am, 

Affectionately  yours, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

In  reply  to  a  letter  from  me,  written  in  the 
Summer  of  1865,  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  he 
says: 

Your  letter  of  the  2')th  ult.,  intended  to  strike  me  at 
Pittsburgh,  glanced  and  reached  its  mark  at  New  York 
City,  just  as  I  was  "on  the  wing"  for  the  hills  of  Con- 
necticut. A  good  shot !  How  much  I  thank  you  for  it; 
it  seemed  as  though  it  revived  some  of  the  dead  music 
of  the  past.  Just  as  I  have  had  some  faintly  lingering 
echo  come  to  me,  lontj  after  the  sound  which  had 
evoked  it  and  all  its  answerinor  echoes  seemed  to  have 
died  away.  The  truth  is,  i/ou  know  more  of  the  happi- 
ness of  my  inner  home-life  as  it  was,  than  any  other  of 
the  dear  friends  who  have  yielded  me  their  sympathy 
m  correspondence  ;  consequently,  I  welcomed  your 
letter  as  I  would  one  from  mv  own  sister  Grace,  Mrs. 
Van  Dusen.  (Then,  after  telling  where  he  has  been, 
and  where  he  spends  the  remainder  of  his  vacation,  he 
says)  :  My  health  is  much  improved,  and  I  am  getting 
a  better  appetite,  both  for  food  and  sleep.  I  am  also 
trying,  not  only  to  get,  but  to  reflect  more  of  cheerful 
sunshine.  I  feel  very  unworthy  the  smile  and  favor  of 
the  Saviour,  but  I  do  not  the  less  value  them — rather 
the  more.  I  feel  more  than  ever  a  desire  to  work  on 
faithfully,  hopefully,  cheerfully.  Any  common  bird  can 
sing  when  the  sun  shines;  but  it  requires  a  gay-songed, 
a  heaven-aspiring  lark  to  rise  from  dark  and  rain,  and 


A  DOMESTIC  INTERLUDE. 


169 


sing  above  them.  I  feel  that  God,  in  great  love,  has 
left  some  work  for  me  to  do.  O,  that  I  may  do  it,  and 
all  the  better  for  the  sad  training  through  which  he  has 
called  me  to  pass.  Give  my  love  to  your  father  and 
mother,  and  each  member  of  the  family  circle.  My 
own  little  ones  are  well — Ada  better  than  usual.  Spen- 
cer is  with  me;  the  three  youngest  are  with  Aunty  Jane 
on  a  farm  near  Pittsburgh.     With  sincere  good  wishes, 

I  am, 

Affectionately,  your  friend  and  brother, 

James  S.  Dickeeson. 


*...Jfcit.'":i:!r:i3 


RESIDENCE  IN  PITTSBURGH. 


171 


CHAPTER  XL 

RESIDENCE   IN   PITTSBURGH. 

To  this  "  smoky  city,"  but  to  an  intelligent  and 
excellent  church,  Mr.  Dickerson  came  in  May,  1865, 
with  a  burdened  and  sorrowing  heart.  He  had  come 
in  the  exercise  of  his  characteristic  faith.  Just  after 
the  burial  of  his  wife,  as  he  was  sitting  with  his  little 
ones  about  him  in  the  house  of  his  friend,  to  his  sis- 
ter's inquiry,  "  Well,  James,  what  are  your  plans  ? 
what  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  replied,  "I  hardly 
know ;  I  have  not  quite  got  my  hand  into  that  of 
Jesus,  but  he  will  guide  me."  He  did  guide  him. 
The  aunt  to  whom  we  have  referred,  went  with  him 
and  remained  more  than  a  year  ;  his  family  was  cared 
for,  and  he  came  into  the  bosom  of  a  thoughtful  and 
sympathizing  people.  Of  his  reception  in  Pittsburgh 
we  have  already  written. 

He  found  the  church  engaged  in  the  work  of  rais- 
ing money  for  their  new  chapel,  while  worshiping  in 
a  public  hall  in  the  center  of  the  city.  He  put  aside 
his  own  private  griefs,  and  immediately  placed  his 
shoulder  under  the  common  burden.  The  church 
labored  with  him  in  hearty  sympathy,  and,  in  the 
following  winter,  the  handsome  stone  chapel,  with 
its  large  Sabbath  school-room  containing  a  beautiful 
fountain,  and  the  very  tasteful  audience  room  above, 

170 


seating  between  five  and  six  hundred  persons,  was 
dedicated. 

From  his  first  coming  to  Pittsburgh  Mr.  Dickerson 
took  a  high  stand,  alike  as  a  preacher  and  a  Chris- 


FOURTH    AVENUE    BAPTIST    CHURCH, 

PITTSBURGH,    PA. 

tian  citizen  interested  in  all  good  works.  His  genial 
disposition  and  fascinating  manners,  his  ready  sym- 
pathy with  every  form  of  goodness  and  of  suffering, 
his  uniformly  easy,  graceful,  and  earnest  eloquence, 
made  him  a  general  favorite,  and  constantly  sought 


172 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


for  on  public  occasions.  In  Sunday-school  gather- 
ings, and  temperance  societies  ;  in  asylums,  peniten- 
taries,  and  for  the  various  charitable  institutions,  his 
voice  was  often  heard  and  always  with  delight.  The 
church  grew  in  numbers  and  in  strength,  the  Sab- 
bath school  steadily  increased,  the  prayer-meetings 
became  larger  and  more  earnest,  and  the  small  audi- 
ences of  the  public  hall  enlarged,  until  the  average 
Sabbath  attendance  of  the  chapel  rose  to  above  four 
hundred.  The  already  completed  chapel  and  tower, 
with  the  lot  upon  which  the  contemplated  church 
was  to  stand,  cost  altogether  $80,000.  This  amount 
was  all  paid  while  Mr.  Dickerson  was  pastor,  and 
only  the  excessive  pressure  upon  the  manufacturing 
interests  of  Pittsburgh  prevented  the  erection  of  the 
church  building  itself  during  his  pastorate.  As  it 
was,  it  was  not  dedicated  until  1875. 

Mr.  Dickerson  did  not  believe  that  because  a 
church  had  contracted  a  debt,  it  was  authorized  to 
curtail  its  gifts  for  benevolent  objects.  He  held  that 
the  Lord  would  prosper  it  in  its  domestic  finances  in 
proportion  as  it  proved  faithful  to  all  the  claims  of 
Christian  benevolence  and  charity.  Statistics  will 
show  how  his  teachings  in  this  regard  were  acted 
upon.  The  contributions  of  the  church  to  benevo- 
lent purposes  during  the  first  year  of  his  pastorate 
were  $290.00  ;  during  the  last  year,  the  fifth,  they 
were  $1,137.00.  The  average  contributions  during 
these  years,  including  payments  on  the  chapel,  were 
$14,000.00. 

To  a  Presbyterian  brother  clergyman,  an  old 
friend,  who  he  thought  was  not  happily  situated  in 


RESIDENCE  IN  PITTSBURGH. 


173 


his   church,  he   wrote   soon   after  entering  on  his 
pastorate : 

Your  letter   had  a  rare    welcome.      If  you  want  an 
appreciative   correspondent,   I'm   your   man ;   you   need 
look  no  farther  !     I  have  often  thought  of  you  .since  we 
filled    ourselves    with    beef -steak    and    melon    at   your 
cousin's  expense.     It's  well  to  teach  these  laymen  prac- 
tical lessons  as  to  what  it  costs  in  these  days  to  keep  a 
"clergyman."     Poor  soul!     I  hope  he  does  not  judge 
of  "the  cloth"  generally  by  the  illustration  which  was 
at  my  right  hand  that  day  !     You  did  do  splemlidly.     I 
almost  envied  you  your  appetite.     But  a  man  may  have 
too  much  of  a  good  thing— as  your  astonished  cousin,  I 
doubt  not,  inwardly  soliloquized.      You'll  never  catch 
him  opening  a  boardino--house  for  clero-ymen.     *     *     * 
How  I  do  wish  you  could  get  into  a  newer,  fresher,  and 
more  encouraging  field  !    Would  that  your  church  appre- 
ciated your  faithfulness  and  devotion  !     God  bless  you, 
and  keep  you  faithful,  even  if  they  are  cold  and  heart- 
less.     Your  time  will  come;  and  if  you  will  patiently 
let   God   fix   it,   you    will   say  when   it  arrives,  "  Tliank 
God  that  it  did  not  strike  an  hour  sooner."     We  can 
not,  we  ought  not,  to  shield  or  apologize  for  cool,  criti- 
cizing, half-hearted,  or  hindering  brethren   and  sisters; 
but,  to  a  certain  degree,  I  suppose  we  ought  to  stomach 
them— for  the  Gospel's  sake;  but  the  Lord  knows  it's  an 
awful  g^^gy  dose  ! 

Here,  I  have  a  large  salary  in  dirt,  smoke,  etc.,  etc., 
but  my  brethren  are  coming  up  to  the  mark,  and  seem 
to  think  that  I  am  ''the  gem  of  the  seas,"  and  they  are 
brethren  of  excellent  judgment  !  We  shall  soon  begin 
to  build.  We  have  fine  lots;  but  I  have  sometimes 
wished  that  every  member  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  here  would  have  the  jumping  tooth-ache,  until 


174 


JAMES  S.  DICKEKSON. 


they  voted  that  we  might  have  their  house  and  lot  at 
prime  cost.  I  judge  from  your  silence  that  your  son 
experienced  no  severe  hurt  from  the  stone  thrown  at 
him.  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  his  improved  health.  God 
spare  him  for  health,  happiness,  and  usefulness;  and  as 
the  merchant  said  in  his  prayer  for  his  children,  "  Ditto, 
Lord,  for  all  the  rest,  assorted  sizes  ! " 

Oh,  when  skating  time  comes,  how  1  shall  think  of 
you,  and  long  and  pine  for  the  days  of  "  Auld  lang 
syne  !  "  Ah  me  !  Give  my  love  to  your  dear  wife.  I 
think  I  would  fight  about  as  quickly  for  her  as  for  any 
living  mortal.  If  she  asks  for  any  stronger  evidence 
of  my  fraternal  interest  and  aflfection,  I  should  despair 
of  satisfying  her. 

As  ever,  yours, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

As  he  closed  the  letter,  I  presume  it  occurred  to 
him  that  he  had  not  mentioned  the  children,  or  said 
much  to  satisfy  a  woman's  inquiries,  so  he  added  : 

Yes,  there  is  lots  of  news  in  this  letter,  too,  Mrs.  B.  ! 
The  children  are  well;  I  am  better;  butter  is  seventy- 
five  cents  a  pound,  chickens  one  dollar  and  twenty-eight 
cents  per  pair;  the  weather  really  delightful;  I  am 
going  to  Philadelphia  soon;  I  hope  to  get  another  house 
April  first;  shall  have  a  nice  parsonage  if  I  live  long 
enough;  I  am  expecting  my  sister,  Mrs.  Van  Dusen, 
here  soon  to  get  the  children  ready  for  Winter.  Thank 
the  Lord  for  good  women  ! 

Mr.  Dickerson 's  Pittsburgh  pastorate  was  natur- 
ally less  eventful  than  that  in  Wilmington,  and  will 
require  less  detail.  He  spent  much  time  in  pastoral 
visiting,  and  the  more  as  his  people  were  scattered 


RESIDENCE   IN    PITTSBURGH. 


175 


over  an  unusually  wide  area.     The  smoke  and  soot 
of  the  city  had  driven  many  of  the  citizens  to  the 
suburbs,  and  some  of  the  most  influential  families  in 
his  church  lived  from  five  to  ten  miles,  and  some  even 
farther  still,  from  the  church.      He  averaged  about 
five  hundred  visits  a  year  during  the  five  years ;  and 
the  results  were  seen  in  the  enlargement  and  pros- 
perity alike  of  the  church  and  the  Sabbath  school. 
And  when  those  whom   the  pastor  had  instructed 
and    comforted   in   their   homes,  found   their   steps 
drawn  to  the  sanctuary,  they  did  not  come  in  vain. 
His  sermons  were  inspiring,  and  (as  with  most  good 
preachers)   to  know  his  pulpit  power  was  to  hear 
him  among  his  own  people.     He   rarely  wrote  an 
entire  sermon ;  but  he  put  more  thought  into  them 
than   is   found  in  many  a  written  sermon,  and  to 
careful  and  thorough  preparation  he  added  an  easy 
elocution,   and    a    directness    and    earnestness    of 
address  which   were    exceedingly  impressive.      He 
combined  two  essential   constituents  of  eloquence; 
intensity  and  clearness  of  conviction,  an  unhesitat- 
ing flow  of  language  and  an  unfailing  instinct  for 
concrete  and  pictorial  expression.     He  spent,  gener- 
ally, five  or  six  hours  a  day  in  his  study,  and  his 
intense  application  during  this  time   made  a  heavy 
strain  upon  his  vital  powers.    This,  with  his  frequent 
visiting,  and  almost  incessant  calls  from  without, 
so  taxed  his  energies  that  only  the  great  buoyancy 
of  his  temper,  and  almost  hilarious  flow  of  spirits 
saved    him    from    much    earlier    exhaustion.      He 
wrought  the  labors  of  a  man  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  a  boy ;   and,  when  wearied  by  duties  which  no 


4 


176 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


amount  of  enthusiasm  could  prevent  from  being 
wearisome,  he  always  found  refreshment  and  invig- 
oration  in  the  sympathies  of  a  happy  home.  Here 
he  could  relax  the  tension  of  his  soul,  throw  off  for 
the  time  his  burdens,  and,  in  almost  frolicsome 
unbending,  gather  strength  for  the  next  morning's 
toil  of  intellect,  and  the  next  afternoon's  round  of 
pastoral  duty. 

Besides  his  other  labors,  he  wrote  almost  weekly 
for  some  of  the  religious  denominational  journals ; 
his  faithful  and  facile  pen  was  ever  ready  in  expo- 
sure of  what  he  deemed  error,  or  advocacy  of  some 
important  truth  or  duty.    He  also  accepted  a  virtual 
challenge  from  a  Methodist  clergyman,  who  stated 
in  one  of  the  Pittsburgh  papers  that  he  had  repeat- 
edly affirmed  that  immersion  was  not  scriptural  bap- 
tism, and  that  no  Baptist  had  ventured  to  contradict 
him.      Mr.    Dickerson    determined  to   relieve   this 
Goliah  of  the  trouble  of  any  similar  challenges  in 
future.     He  carried  on  a  controversy  with  him  in 
the  National  Baptist  for  about  three  months,  main- 
taining his  positions  with  cogency  and  learning.    The 
argument  resulted  in  the  defection  of  quite  a  num- 
ber of  the  adherents  of  Methodism  to  the  Baptist 
ranks. 


CHAPTER   Xn. 

MAJiRIAGE   AND   HOME    LIFE  IN   PITTSBURGH. 

Mr.  Dickerson  went  to  Pittsburgh  in  May,  1865. 
He  remained  a  widower  until  the  Autumn  of  1866, 
when  the  friendship  which  had  for  years  existed 
between  him  and  the  present  writer,  took  a  tenderer 
and  more  intimate  character ;  and,  instead  of  com- 
plying with  an  invitation  to  teach  in  Vassar  Female 
College,  I  accepted  (as  he  playfully  informed  Dr. 
Raymond,  and  as  I  was  not  wholly  indisposed  to 
deny),  "  a  better  position  ;  "  and,  following  out  the 
acceptance,  I  accompanied  him  to  Pittsburgh.  I 
was  entering  an  untried  sphere  indeed,  but  a  familiar 
family  circle,  and  one  in  which  all  my  associations 
had  been  peculiarly  delightful.  I  had  reason  to 
anticipate  the  happiness  which  I  found,  and  every 
day  and  year  only  developed  and  heightened  the 
congenial  sympathies  which  first  drew  us  together. 
In  him  I  found  only  love,  and  tenderness,  and  care  ; 
all  the  thoughtful  regard  for  my  wishes  and  opinions 
that  the  most  strong-minded  asserter  of  the  privi- 
leges of  the  sex  could  ask.  From  his  children  I  ever 
had  loving  obedience.  Just  after  our  engagement  he 
wrote,  "  A  happy,  delightful  day  !  May  thus  it  be, 
'walking  together'  till  life's  journey  ends,  and  the 
Heavenly  Sabbath  dawns  !  " 


12 


177 


BwlwUliLi- iieww!-  i»'.i«t'Wi 


^3gy»1S«tf»ny-rj 


178 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


He  adds  in  his  diary : 

Tuesday^  Sept.  4, 1866.  The  marriage  notice.  Started 
for  Niagara  Falls.     Thank  God  for  hopes  and  home  ! 

Tuesday.,  Sept.  14, 10:40.  Reached  home  !  May  God 
make  the  happiness  of  myself  and  family  redound  to 
His  glory. 

Aorain  :  Bless  the  Lord  for  all  His  unusual  and 
precious  gifts  and  tokens  of  favor  of  which  I  feel  so 
unworthy. 

The  years  1867  and  1868  brought  to  our  hearts  and 
home  both  joy  and  sorrow.  In  November,  1867, 
our  first  child,  Florence,  was  born.  She  was  a 
beautiful  chikl,  becoming  early  full  of  fun  and  frolic, 
and  looking  very  much  like  her  father.  Her  coming, 
a  joy  to  us  all,  was  an  especial  delight  to  Ada,  who 
would  amuse  herself  with  her  for  hours.  In  con- 
nection with  this  one,  I  may  record  an  instance  of 
Ada's  sinsfular  unselfishness.  She  had  in  December 
one  of  her  periods  of  intense  suffering,  which  could 
be  allayed  only  by  large  opiates,  but  in  all  which  she 
was  unfailingly  patient,  now  and  then  in  her  parox- 
ysms, praying,  ''O  Lord,  please  stop  this  dreadful  pain, 
and  come  and  take  me  to  Heaven."  Yet,  when  little 
Florence  became  ill  and  I  was  attending  upon  her, 
while  her  father  was  at  Ada's  bedside,  soothing  her 
with  songs  and  stories,  she  said  to  him,  "  Poor  tired 
mamma,  she  does  not  get  any  rest,  night  or  day.  I 
wish  I  could  take  the  baby's  pain,  for  I  am  used  to 
it  and  could  bear  it  better." 

But  ere  long  the  blows  of  death  came  in  rapid 
succession.  In  February,  1868,  after  a  long  and 
painful  illness  my  father.  Prof.  J.  F.  Richardson,  of 


•^.i 


MARRIAGE  AND   HOME   LIFE. 


179 


Rochester,  passed  away.  He  was  just  sixty  years  old, 
and  being  blessed  with  an  excellent  constitution — 
this  was  his  first  serious  illness  within  my  memory — 
he  was  in  his  full  physical  and  mental  vigor.  This 
is  not  the  place  to  record  his  eulogy.  But  a  daugh- 
ter may  bear  testimony  to  the  thorough  integrity  of 
character,  the  uniform  uprightness  of  conduct,  the 
high  sense  of  duty  and  of  honor  which  won  for  him 
universal  esteem,  and  even  more  emphatic  testimony 
to  the  gentle  virtues,  the  unfailing  sympathy  and 
kindness  that  illuminated  and  gladdened  the  sanctu- 
ary of  his  home.  It  was  where  he  was  best  known 
that  he  was  most  esteemed  and  loved. 

The  first  agony  of  grief  for  my  father  was  scarcely 
over,  when  Ada  suddenly  began  to  fail.  Her  appe- 
tite, which  had  been  excellent,  was  gone,  and  she 
herself  became  conscious  that  her  end  was  near. 
Her  child-like  faith,  however,  was  strong,  and  she 
loved  to  hear  of  Heaven,  though  she  would  some- 
times say,  ''  How  can  I  leave  you  all,  and  our  dear 
little  baby  ?  "  Her  pain  could  be  alleviated  only  by 
large  doses  of  morphia.  One  night,  her  father  coming 
home  late  and  exhausted  from  his  labors,  and  finding 
her  in  distress,  went  for  the  accustomed  dose  of 
morphia.  The  bottle  had  been  forgotten  and  was 
empty,  and  the  place  for  replenishing  it  was  a  mile 
distant.  He  told  her  about  it,  and,  kneeling  down, 
asked  her  to  join  him  in  a  prayer  that  God  would 
give  her  rest  and  sleep  without  the  morphia.  After 
a  soothing  song  she  fell  asleep  and  rested  until  morn- 
ing ;  and,  as  she  saw  her  father  in  the  morning,  she 
said,  "  The  prayer  was  just  as  good  as  the  morphia, 


180 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


MARRIAGE  AND  HOME  LIFE. 


181 


wasn't  it?"  Her  father,  a  believer  in  prayer,  pro- 
bably thought  it  was;  yet  would  not  have  been 
tempted  by  the  belief  to  forego  a  fresh  supply  of 
the  medicine.  God,  he  believed,  gives  answers  to 
prayer,  but  not  to  presumption. 

Toward  the  last  of  May  Ada  failed  fast,  was 
much  of  the  time  unconscious,  and  talked  incoher- 
ently. One  of  her  little  utterances,  tender  and 
touching  at  the  time,  was  stamped  soon  with  the 
deeper  pathos  of  an  unsuspected  prophecy  :  ''Yes," 
she  said,  midway  between  sleeping  and  waking,  ''  I 
have  two  mammas ;  one  is  on  the  earth,  and  one  is  up 
in  Heaven.  If  I  die  I  shall  see  mamma  Julia;" 
and  then,  after  a  moment,  she  added,  ''  But  what 
could  I  do  without  my  dear  little  baby  ?  Ask  and 
receive.  I'll  ask  the  Lord,  and  perhaps  he  will  give 
me  one  there."  Alas!  (we  thought  a  little  after), 
Ada's  prayer  has  too  surely  reached  its  mark,  and 
Heaven  has  been  enriched  by  and  for  her  at  the 
expense  of  our  double  affliction.  But  as  yet  our 
hearts  did  not  forbode  it. 

Her  father,  meantime,  talked  to  her  of  Heaven, 
and  pictured,  as  he  beautifully  could,  its  glories  and 
pleasures  ;  and  her  favorite  aunt,  Mrs.  Van  Dusen, 
of  New  York,  who  kindly  came  a  few  days  before 
her  death,  did  much  to  soothe  her,  and  aid  us  all  in 
the  trial.  In  the  early  morning  of  May,  just  after 
she  had  said,  *'  I  hear  the  bells  ringing :  how  sweetly 
they  sound  ! "  she  quietly  breathed  her  last — one 
moment  listening  and  talking,  the  next  moment 
deaf  and  mute  forever  !     How  close  on  the  mystery 


of  life  is  the  mystery  of  death !    In  the  family  Bible 
her  father  wrote : 

"Ada  Pauline  Dickerson,  oldest  daughter  of 
James  S.  and  Julia  S.  Dickerson,  died  sweetly  and 
in  Jesus,  May  29,  1868,  at  7  A.M.  For  ten  weary 
years  she  suffered  a  painful  affliction,  which  she 
endured  with  remarkable  patience,  and  under  the 
sad  yet  refining  influence  of  which  she  was  led  to 
Christ,  and  grew  into  a  loveliness  of  Christian 
maturity  as  remarkable  as  it  was  beautiful.  Her 
trust  was  in  Him  who  is    '  the  resurrection  and  the 

life.'  " 

In  his  diary  he  wrote  :  *'  Monday,  June  1st.  Dar- 
ling Ada  placed  in  a  grave  at  Alleghany  cemetery, 
awaiting  the  glad  summons  of  the  resurrection  day. 
Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly  !  " 

Although  but  thirteen  years  old,  Ada  had  been 
necessarily  so  much  with  older  people,"  that  she  was 
very  mature,  and  I  found  in  her  a  congenial  and 
sympathizing  companion.  The  affectionate  care  of 
all  the  household  clustered  about  her,  and  with  her 
brothers  and  sister,  in  the  absence  of  papa  and 
mamma,  her  wishes  and  advice  were  final.  As  we 
laid  away  her  little  crutches,  we  could  but  rejoice 
that  the  need  of  them  was  forever  past,  but  we 
missed  day  by  day  her  glad  presence,  and  her  loving 

ways. 

She  had  been  but  a  few  weeks  in  heaven  when 
her  half  prayer,  half  prophecy  was  fulfilled,  and  the 
summons  came  for  our  precious  little  Florence.  On 
Monday,   July   6th.    she   was   taken   suddenly   and 


182 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


violently  ill,  and  Ada's  words,  "  What  shall  I  do 
without  my  baby  ? "  came  to  our  hearts  with  a 
thrilling,  and  hitherto  unthought-of  meaning.  As 
the  day  wore  on,  and  that  fearful  disease,  cholera 
infantum^  seemed  to  take  a  death-like  hold  of  the 
dear  little  flower,  I  thought,  "  Can  it  be  that  Ada  is 
about  to  have  this  baby  ?  Can  it  be  that  her  prayer 
is  about  to  draw  my  little  angel  to  the  skies?" 
Ada  did  not  mean  this.  If  Guido,  ''dizzy  with 
heaven,"  forgot  to  turn  away  the  ball,  he  surely  did 
not  direct  it  to  its  mark  for  the  sake  of  a  speedier 
brotherly  reunion.  Yet,  if  this  was  the  unconscious 
import  of  Ada's  prayer,  who  shall  deny  that  it  is 
in  mercy?  Who  knows  from  what  "evil  to  come" 
the  little  one  is  taken  away  ?  Snatched,  perhaps,  to 
the  fold  of  the  Heavenly  Shepherd,  ere  its  feet  have 
strayed  into  paths  of  earthly  sin  and  sorrow. 
Would  parental  love  prolong  this  life  to  Ada's  years 
at  the  cost  of  Ada's  suffering  ?  The  mother's  heart 
may  be  forgiven  for  shrinking  back  from  the  fatal 
record.  Yet  the  dreaded  event  came,  and,  shortly 
after  ten  o'clock  at  night,  our  first-born,  the  darling 
of  our  hearts,  and  the  light  of  our  home,  was  gone. 
Her  death  was  five  weeks  after  that  of  Ada.  Her 
father  wrote  in  his  diary :  "  Died  suddenly,  Monday, 
July  6th,  at  10.30  p.m.,  our  precious  little  daughter, 
Florence,  aged  seven  months  and  sixteen  days." 

And  so,  within  six  months,  the  Angel  of  Death 
came  thrice  into  the  circle  of  our  loved  ones. 

Insatiate  Archer,  could  not  one  suffice  ? 

These  successive    sorrows,  to  me  fraught   with 


mimm 


iTiiv;3z: 


MARRIAGE  AND   HOME   LIFE. 


183 


sadness  and  depression,  as  I  vainly  struggled  with 
grief  over  my  first-born,  Mr.  Dickerson  looked  upon 
with  a  Christian  eye,  and  saw  the  bright  side  of 
every  bereavement.  He  had  been  early  disciplined 
in  the  school  of  trial,  and  his  Christian  faith  taught 
him  that,  while  the  mysteries  of  Providence  were 
beyond  solution,  yet  many  things  might  be  partially 
comprehended  by  him  with  whom  is  "  the  secret  of 
the  Lord." 

I  quote  a  few  lines  from  a  letter  written  from 
McKeesport,  near  Pittsburgh,  where  Mr.  Dickerson 
attended  an  association  a  short  time  after  Ada's 
death : 

Here  T  am,  and  hard  at  work.  I  have  a  nice  place 
to  stay,  and  brother  Everson  is  my  bed-fellow.  The 
service  is  an  interesting  one,  and  promise  is  yielded 
of  considerable  animation  and  discussion.  It  seems 
both  strange  and  sad  to  me,  as  my  mind  turns  home- 
ward, that  I  have  no  message  to  Ada  to  send,  no  anx- 
ieties to  nurse,  and  no  prayers  to  offer  in  her  behalf. 
We  do  not  know,  darling,  just  how  much  we  love, 
until  we  are  tried  by  bereavements.  How  tender  we 
should  be  to  one  another  in  view  of  the  fact  that  some 
day  we  shall  be  separated,  and  that  forever  —  so  far  as 
this  poor  world  is  concerned  !  I  feel  that  T  want  to  be 
more  loving  and  careful  and  truly  tender,  in  all  my 
future  life,  toward  the  dear  ones  whom  T  love  and 
who  love  me.  *  *  *  Give  my  love  to  the  dear  chil- 
dren, not  overlooking  the  sweet  little  hair-puller  and 
eye-scratcher,  who  does  take  so  much  after  her  mother. 
Kiss  her  and  the  others  for  me,  and  accept  a  few  choice 
specimens  for  yourself.      As  I  have  opportunity  I  will 


184 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


MARRIAGE  AND   HOME   LIFE. 


185 


I 


write  a  few  lines  again.     With  much  love,  darling,  and 
hoping  I  shall  find  you  stronger  and  better,  1  am. 
Affectionately,  your  loving  and  lover-husband, 

James. 

Writing  from  another  association,  or  convention, 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  State,  where  Baptists  were 
not  as  wide-awake  as  he  wished,  he  says : 

Here  I  am,  safe  and  sound.  I  had  a  good  rest,  and  a 
fair  amount  of  sleep,  for  me,  in  the  sleeping-car.  I  had 
several  pleasant  companions  on  the  way.  We  reached 
here  at  7  a.m.,  and  after  breakfast  and  hanging  around 
for  an  hour,  I  reported  myself  to  the  "  Committee  on 
Deleofates,"  and  received  a  card  of  introduction  to  a 
very  pleasant  family.  I  left  my  valise  and  shawl,  and 
then  sat  down  in  the  reading-room  of  -the  hotel  to  fulfill 
my  promise  to  my  absent,  but  not  forgotten,  wife.  I 
am  mighty  glad  you  did  not  come.  It  rather  humbles 
me  to  go,  with  my  hat  and  card  in  hand,  to  ask  hospital- 
ity of  strangers,  and  they  Presbyterians.  To  have  you 
do  it  would  be  far  worse.  Then,  too,  I  know  you  would 
have  become  sick  and  tired  of  the  whole  performance. 
Things  are  very  one- horse- ish  here  among  some  Penn- 
sylvania Baptists — and  I  guess  always  will  be  until  the 
"second  coming."  Dr.  Castle,  of  Philadelphia,  if  he 
comes,  is  to  be  my  chum.  He  is  a  fine,  gentlemanly 
fellow.  Mrs.  Dr.  Loomis,  I  hear,  is  in  town,  and  Dr.  L. 
is  expected.  If  they  do  not  put  me  on  for  any  service 
Thursday  evening,  I  think  I  will  start  that  night,  and 
get  to  Pittsburgh  in  the  morning.  But  now  I  must  stop 
and  go  to  the  depot,  and  see  if  the  Philadelphia  dele- 
gates have  arrived.  Drs.  Henson,  Wheaton  Smith, 
Weston,  Randolph,  and  a  few  others,  are  expected. 
Give  my  love  to  the  children,  and  tell  them  they  must 


help  you  all  they  can,  and  give  a  good  report  of  them- 
selves when  I  get  back.  Good-bye,  dearest.  While  I 
do  not  wish  you  were  here,  I  do  wish  I  were  with  you. 
Home  is  the  brightest  and  cheeriest  place  on  earth  to  me. 
Even  our  Pittsburgh  home  seems  very  bright,  compared 
with  any  other  spot  that  is  not  home!  May  God  bless 
and  keep  you  all.  All  my  thoughts  are  in  some  way 
related  to  home  and  you. 

Your  own  dear  husband, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

From  another  letter,  written  from  the  Hudson, 
where  he  was  spending  a  few  days  at  his  uncle 
James  Stokes'  summer  home,  we  make  a  few 
extracts :  "  The  day  is  a  real  October  one,  reminding 
us  of  the  days  that  are  to  come  ;  those  '  melancholy 
days,'  over  which  the  poets  have  sung  in  such  sad 
numbers.  And  yet  there  is  something  very  inspiring 
to  me  in  these  Autumn  times,  and  I  feel  more  sym- 
pathy with  the  animation  of  the  squirrels  that  were 
chattering  in  the  woods  to-day,  than  with  the  fright- 
ened birds  that  were  sailing  sadly  southward  this  morn- 
jjjg^  *  *  *  I  am  beginning  to  make  arrangements 
for  my  homeward  trip.  I  want  to  impress  myself,  by 
the  help  of  God,  on  my  field  this  fall  and  winter, 
as  never  before.  I  want  to  work  and  study  hard 
and  effectively.  I  want  to  get  up  earlier,  and  be  a 
little  more  systematic,  and  make  every  day  tell.  If 
my  head  does  not  give  out — this  dizziness,  I  mean — 
I  think  it  will  tell  for  good,  on  me  and  on  my  field. 

"  I  think  I  may  say  that  it  is  quite  settled  that 
Uncle  James  will  help  me  in  my  trip  abroad.  He 
said,  the  last  time  that  I  talked  with  him,  that  he 

8* 


186 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


MARRIAGE  AND  HOME  LIFE. 


187 


wanted  me  to  go  once  on  a  skimming  sort  of  a  trip, 
seeing  a  good  deal  in  a  little  while.  Then,  he 
wanted  me  to  take  my  wife^  and  make  another  slower 
and  longer  trip,  that  would  give  us  something  to 
talk  about  the  rest  of  our  lives.  He  talked  as  if  he 
was  ready  to  do  a  generous  thing  when  the  time 
came.  *  *  *  But,  darling,  I  would  rather  have 
you  and  half  a  visit,  than  go  without  you  and  have 
a  whole  one."     *     *     * 

From  a  letter  received  while  I  was  making  a  visit 
in  Rochester,  in  1869,  when  I  was  talking  of  pro- 
longing my  stay  a  little,  I  quote  a  few  sentences : 

I  have  read  your  last  letter,  just  received,  for  the 
second  or  third  time,  and,  while  it  is  a  comfort  and 
satisfaction  to  hear  from  you  again,  it  awakens  a  strong 
desire  to  have  you  safely  and  lovingly  at  home.  As 
to  prolonging  your  visit,  I  would  try  to  speak  impar- 
tially if  I  really  could,  but  I  have  an  idea  that  my 
prejudices  are  a  little  icarped  in  your  favor.  As  to 
home  affairs,  there  is  nothing  in  the  housekeeping 
arrangements  that  absolutely  calls  for  the  presence  of 
its  "stirring"  head.  In  this  respect  we  are  not  suffering. 
I  have  no  doubt  there  are  little  neglects  in  pantries, 
closets,  etc.,  which  will  come  to  light  when  you  return  ; 
but  that  will  make  no  difference  a  thousand  years  hence. 
*  *  *  As  for  your  "  own  precious,"  why  his  opinion 
on  a  matter  of  this  kind  isn't  to  be  trusted  at  all.  I  do 
not  know  how  it  looks  at  Rochester,  but  there  are  all 
the  appearances  here  of  a  hard,  wintry  week.  The 
snow  is  falling  at  intervals,  the  sky  looks  very  threaten- 
ing, and  I  should  feel  greatly  relieved  to  greet  you 
safely    from    storms    and    worse    alarms   on    Saturday 


evening,  should  you  conclude  that  it  is  not  best  to 
extend  your  visit. 

We  began  our  extra  meetings  last  Wednesday  night, 
but  as  yet  they  have  not  been  fruitful  in  any  special 
results,  although  one  young  man,  I  believe,  is  out  in  the 
clear  light  of  a  hope.  Would  that  T  had  more  of  that 
simple  resting  on  God  and  His  own  work  t  *  *  * 
We  all  think  of  you  and  talk  of  you,  and  conclude  that 
a  large  part  of  the  family  circle  has  been  taken  away, 
and  a  mere,  lonely  segment  left.  If  a  little  separation 
is  worth  anything,  it  is  because  it  reveals  the  true  depth 
of  our  love  for  absent  ones.  Thank  God  that  we  need 
this  kind  of  discipline  so  little  !  How  few  retain  the 
freshness  and  simplicity  of  heart  love  as  we  do,  darling! 
Of  this  kind  of  love  the  poet  sang  when  he  breathed  so 
sweetly  on  his  lute, 

'Tis  said  that  absence  conquers  love, 

But  oh,  believe  it  not! 
I've  tried  in  vain  its  power  to  prove, 

But  thou  art  not  forgot. 

And  surely  we  have  been  separated  often  enough  and 
long  enough  to  test,  that 

Tliough  absent,  present  in  love  we  be  — 
Our  souls  much  farther  than  our  eyes  can  see. 

Stay  a  few  days  longer  if  you  wish,  and  telegraph  me 
in  time  so  that  I  shall  not  be  looking  for  you  and  be 
disappointed.  I  do  not  think  there  is  much  danger, 
especially  in  coming  this  way.  But  good-bye,  darling, 
until  we  meet,  either  in  peaceful  correspondence,  or  "  in 


arms. 


i> 


Affectionately  yours, 

J.  S.  D. 


Some  time  before  this  an  Eastern   church  in  a 
beautiful  city  wrote  to  him,  urgently  and  repeatedly 


188 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


begging  him  to  become  their  pastor,  and  ofifering 
some  unusual  inducements  in  the  matter  of  a  sahiry 
and  a  nice  parsonage.  Referring  to  it  in  a  letter  he 
writes  what  we  quote  below,  and  soon  afterward 
declined  the  call,  feeling  that  it  was  still  his  duty 
to  remain  with  the  church  in  Pittsburgh  and  endure 
the  dirt,  which  was  a  great  trial  to  him  and  to  us 
all.     He  says : 

"  The  claims  from are  pushed  again.      But 

I  want  the  thing  decided  on  principles  that  will 
stand  the  test  of  a  view  from  the  dying  hour.     I  am 
not  disposed  to  shirk  every  sacrifice,  and  when   I 
think  what  other  ministers  have  had  to  endure,  and 
what  Christ  undertook  for  me,  I  feel  that  it  is  quite 
likely  that  unless  I  move  very  carefully  and  in  the 
fear  of  God,  He  may  change  my  average  of  a  very 
happy  pastoral  life  to  one  that  would  show  much 
more  of   trouble,  anxiety,  and  even  sorrow.      The 
friends  here  constantly  enquire  about  you  and  send 
love  to  you.     Tell  Ada  her  letter  was  tip-top  ;    but 
I  would  like  to   know  where  she  gets  note  paper 
with  'A.  P.  D.'  on  it?      Such  notions  of   extrava- 
gance have  just  got  to  be  '  put  down.'  " 

In  a  letter  addressed  to  Ada  a  few  days  afterward 
he  headed  the  letter,  written  on  a  large  square  letter 
sheet,  with  a  fanciful  ff .  5.  H.,  and  addressed  her 
as,  My  dear  Miss  "A.  P.  D.,"  which  amused  her 
very  much. 


'■ 


CHAPTER   Xni. 


REMOVAL   TO   BOSTON. 


Mr.  Dickerson  closed  his  labors  in  Pittsburgh  in 
May,  1870.  In  the  April  previous  he  had  accepted 
a  call  to  the  South  Baptist  church  in  Boston,  Mass. 
The  circumstances  of  the  call  had  seemed  singular 
and  providential.  In  1865,  while  the  church  in 
Pittsburgh  was  worshiping  in  Masonic  Hall,  before 
the  completion  of  their  chapel,  a  Mr.  Pettingill, 
from  Boston,  visiting  his  son-in-law  in  Pittsburgh, 
a  member  of  this  church,  heard  Mr.  Dickerson  on 
the  Sabbath  morning,  and  was  drawn  by  his  interest 
in  the  discourse  to  repeat  his  attendance  at  the 
church  on  a  very  oppressive  evening.  He  returned 
to  Boston  with  an  estimate  of  Mr.  Dickerson  which 
the  lapse  of  years  did  not  efface.  Nearly  five  years 
afterward,  when  the  South  Baptist  church  had  been 
for  four  months  without  a  pastor,  Mr.  Pettingill,  as 
chairman  of  the  pulpit  committee,  wrote  to  his 
''Western  man,"  inviting  him  to  come  and  preach 
for  them,  with  a  view  to  a  call.  The  letter  came 
while  Mr.  Dickerson  was  spending  two  or  three 
weeks  in  New  York.  He  had,  even  during  this 
year,  received  repeated  invitations  to  other  fields; 
but  had  declined  them.  This,  however,  impressed 
me   as   none   of    the   others   had;    and    when    my 


189 


190 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


husband  read  it  on  his  return,  he  said,  "I  have 
never  felt  as  I  do  now  about  leaving  Pittsburgh.  I 
have  a  conviction  that  the  Lord's  hand  is  guiding 
us  to  Boston.  What  do  you  think  ?  ''  In  reply  to 
the  request  he  wrote  as  follows : 

February  19,  1870. 
My  Dear  Brother:    Your  letter  of  the  15th  inst. 
is  at  hand,  and   I   thank  >ou  for  its  kind  references  to 
myself,   and   its   clear   statements    with    regard    to   the 
church  which  you  represent.     Since  its  reception  I  have 
given  to  the  important  subject,  which  it  suggests,  much 
serious  and  prayerful  consideration.     Never  during  my 
five  years  pastorate  in  this  city  have  I  gained  the  con- 
sent of  my  conscience  and  judgment  seriously  to  con- 
sider  any    invitation    to    other    churches,    although,    in 
several    instances,    both    pecuniary   and    other    induce- 
ments were  very  strongly  in  favor  of  the  fields  to  which 
I  was  called.    But  I  frankly  confess  that  a  diflferent  state 
of  things  surrounds    me    now,  and,  should  Providence 
open  the   way,  I   should   consider  myself  at  liberty  to 
entertain   the    question    of   a    change.     The   church   of 
which  I  am  pastor  has,  by  God's  blessing,  reached  such 
a  position  of  prosperity  and  strength,  that  a  change  of 
pastors  need  not  embarrass  any  of    its  interests,  and 
might,  indeed,  promote    them    all.      When    I    became 
acquainted  with  the  First  Baptist  Church  of  this  city,  its 
property  was  worth  less  than  J|9,000,  and  its  two  hundred 
scattered,   discouraged,  and    weakened    members    wor- 
shiped in  a   very  poor  public  hall.     Now,  its  beautiful 
chapel  with  the  land  on  which  it  stands,  including  lots 
for   our   projected    main    edifice,  all    worth    $60,000  or 
$70,000,  are  practically  paid  for,  while  our  membership 
has  increased  to  about  three  hundred  and  fifty,  and  our 


REMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


191 


working  strength  quadrupled.  The  main  edifice  is  not 
likely  to  be  begun  for  some  time  yet.  Hence  the  altered 
circumstances  which  make  me  feel  that  the  Master's 
cause  here  need  not  suffer  injury  by  a  change  of  pastors. 

He  then  speaks  of  the  pleasant  relations  between 
him  and  the  church,  and  of  the  pain  which  would 
attend  the  sundering  of  the  ties  which  bound  him 
to  them ;  while  he  yet  deems  it  possible  that  the 
Lord  may  be  preparing  him  for  it,  and,  if  so,  it  will 
conduce  to  the  highest  good  of  all. 

Having  a  natural  shrinking  from  appearing  before 
the  church  in  the  attitude  of  a  candidate,  he  sug- 
gested to  the  Boston  church  that  instead  of  his 
going  to  them  they  should  send  a  committee  of  two 
or  three  to  hear  him  at  home.  But  Mr.  Pettingill 
wrote  that  there  were  not  two  or  three  men  in  the 
church  who  would  take  such  responsibility,  and  if 
there  were,  the  church  would  not  be  satisfied  to  be 
represented  by  them.  However,  to  make  the  matter 
less  embarrassing,  they  arranged  that  but  few  of 
the  church  should  be  aware  of  the  precise  state  of 
affairs.     In  reply  to  a  letter  stating  this,  he  wrote : 

*  *  *  I  am  grateful  to  you  and  the  brethren  with 
whom  you  counsel  for  the  judicious  and  considerate 
plan  you  have  adopted  in  respect  to  my  visit.  It  is  a 
very  undesirable  position  to  occupy  when  a  minister, 
who  wants  to  preach  in  view  of  the  judgment  of  the 
great  day,  is  almost  of  necessity  compelled  to  thoughts 
of  the  "judgment"  his  hearers  are  passing  upon  him; 
and  while,  as  an  individual,  I  know  little  of  what  is 
called  the  fear  of  men,  I  am  conscious  of  great  sensi- 
tiveness when  I  stand  before  an  audience.     Extempor- 


'  <H*'igHi''-J> 


192 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


f. 


aneous  speakers  who  "kindle"  with  the  inspiration  of 
their  hearers  are  placed  at  a  great  disadvantage  when 
they  are  left  to  the  poor  thoughts  of  their  mere  personal 
relations,  or  acceptability  to   those  whom  they   would 
persuade  and  move.     Would  that  I   could  always  be 
clear   above   these    lower    considerations,    and   lift   my 
hearers  and  myself  to  the  realization  that  the  work  in 
wh,ch  we  are  engaged,  while  it  demands  the  very  best 
gifts,  can  not  be  successfully  prosecuted  by  mere  human 
appeals,  however  captivating,  or  convincing,  or  persuad- 
ing they  may  be  in   themselves.     No,  not  with  enticing 
words     of  man's  wisdom."    Wherever  I  may  preach  may 
I  have  your  prayers  that  I   may  be  a  faithful,  bold,  yet 
loving,  preacher  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 

Mr   Dickerson  went  to  Boston  the  last  of  March 
a  tended  the  Friday  night  prayer-meeting,  preached 
and  baptized  on  Sunday  the  27th,  and  left  for  Pitts- 
burgh on  Tuesday  morning.    Of  the  church  meeting 
which  was  held   that  Tuesday  night,  Mr.  Pettingill 
wrote  :    "  In  the  height  of  a  driving  north-east  storm 
we  assembled  m  our  vestiy  last  night,  and  found  the 
largest  number  present  I   ever  saw  at  a  business 
meeting.       Then,  after  speaking  of  the  remarks  of 
many  m  regard  to  giving  Mr.  D.  a  call,  he  says : 
Every  speaker  expressed  himself  clearly  and  une- 
quivocally in  favor  of  extending  you  a  unanimous 
call,  and  when  a  motion  to  that  effect  was  made, 
seconded  and  put,  the  moderator  asking  for  a  rising 
vote,  every  one  present  arose.     There  was  no  ma- 
chinery, no  electioneering,  but  one  free,  full,  hearty 
outburst  of  a  sentiment  pervading  every  heart  here. 
It  was  the  largest  vote  ever  cast  for  a  pastor,  not- 


BEMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


198 


withstanding  the  severe  storm  without ;  a  unanimous 
vote,  notwithstanding  we  have  heard  fifteen  candi- 
dates, and  most  of  them,  if  not  all,  above  the  medi- 
ocrity of  preachers,  and  many  of  them  having  strong 
friends  in  the  church.     To  my  mind  there  is  no  way 
of  accounting  for  this  hearty  unanimity,  but  that 
our  blessed  Redeemer  is  moving  upon  all  hearts  in 
our  dear  church,  and  that '  God  has  led  us  by  a  way 
we  know  not.'     You  should  have  seen  the  thrill  of 
pleasure  that  each  countenance  exhibited  when  the 
vote  was  announced.     No  words  of  mine  can  give 
you  an  idea  of  what  our  eyes  saw  and  our  ears  heard. 
Our  meeting  closed  about  ten  o'clock,  but  it  was 
nearly  eleven  o'clock  before  the  people  left  the  ves- 
try.     To   what   can   we    attribute   this   wonderful 
result,  but  to  the  hand  of  our  blessed  Lord  ?    Our 
brothers  and  sisters  say  it  is  an  answer  to  prayer, 
and  to-day  among  those  I  have  seen  there  is  but  one 
theme— the  result  of  the  meeting,  and  their  hopes 
and  expectations  touching  your  acceptance  of  our 
call.     In  all  my  experience  I  have  never  witnessed 
anything  approximating  such  a  feeling  as  now  per- 
vades our  church.     *     *    *    Let  us  hear  from  you 
as  soon  as  possible,  for  the  days  will  seem  like  weeks, 
until  we  do." 

Another  member  of  the  church  writing  to  a  friend 
after  this  meeting,  says,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  high- 
est—praise the  Lord!  I  don't  know  that  I  can 
contain  myself  long  enough  to  write,  but  I  will  try. 
It  is  raining  very  hard  to-night,  but  in  spite  of  it,  I 
never  saw  so  large  a  number  at  our  church-meeting 
as  we  had  to-night.     We  took  a  vote  for  pastor,  the 


194 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


largest  vote  ever  recorded  on  our  church  books,  and 
Dr.  Dickerson  had  every  vote  cast.  Is  not  this  God's 
work  ?  We  have  heard  fifteen  candidates,  and  the 
most  of  them  able  men,  and  I  was  afraid  we  could 
not  be  united.  I  know  that  before  Dr.  D.  came  we 
could  not  have  got  more  than  a  two-thirds  vote  on 
any  one  we  have  heard  ;  but  when  he  came  he  united 
every  heart  of  the  church  and  congregation.  I  wish 
you  could  have  been  here  and  seen  the  interest  mani- 
fested. Never  in  the  history  of  the  church,  since  I 
have  been  connected  with  it,  have  I  seen  anything 
like  it.  Men  grasped  each  other  by  the  hand,  and 
women  went  here  and  there  praising  God  for  his 
wonderful  goodness  to  us  in  thus  uniting  us.  *  * 
We  believe  we  have  the  finest  field  to  work  in  where 
a  man  can  make  himself  useful  for  his  Master,  in 
Boston,  I  care  not  where  the  church  is.  *  *  * 
Dr.  Warren,  of  the  Missionary  Board,  says,  '  I  hope 
he  will  come,  you  can't  do  better,'  and  so  say  many 
others.  They  say  we  want  him  here,  in  the  '  Athens 
of  America.' " 

There  are  other  letters  of  the  same  tenor,  but 
these  will  suffice  to  show  how  quickly  and  how 
thoroughly  all  hearts  were  turned  toward  him,  and 
how  enthusiastic  was  the  call  to  Boston.  In  April 
Mr.  Dickerson  accepted  it,  and  preached  his  first 
sermons  as  pastor  on  Sunday,  May  15th,  from  the 
texts,  "  He  shall  see  the  travail  of  His  soul,  and  be 
satisfied,"  and  in  the  afternoon,  "  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  the  Gospel  of  Christ;  for  it  is  the  power  of  God 
unto  salvration."  The  latter  sermon  was  noticed, 
with  a  brief  analysis  of  it,  in  the  Boston  Journal. 


REMOVAL  TO   BOSTON. 


195 


As  at  Pittsburgh,  so  at  Boston,  Mr.  Dickerson 
was  cordially  welcomed  into  the  circle  of  the  minis- 
try, and  was  at  once  recognized  as  among  the  leading 
preachers  there.     His  audiences  increased  steadily, 
and  ill  his  evening  services,  generally  adapted  more 
especially  to  the  young  and   the  unconverted,  the 
large   audience-room   and   galleries   were   crowded. 
The    usual   practice  had    been   here,  as  generally 
elsewhere  in  New  England,  to  have  preaching  ser- 
vices in  the  morning  and  afternoon,  followed  by  a 
meeting  for  prayer  in  the   evening.      Desirous   to 
reach  a  large  number  in  the  community  who  would 
not  attend  at  his  church  in  the  daytime,  nor  could 
be  drawn  to  a  prayer  meeting  at  all,  as  also  feeling 
unable  to  preach  two  sermons  in  such  close  succes- 
sion, Mr.  Dickerson  innovated  on  the  old  system, 
and,   with   the   concurring   action   of    the   church, 
transferred  the  preaching  of  the  afternoon  to  the 
evening.     The  result  justified  the  change.     Multi- 
tudes of   young  people  were   drawn,  either  from 
other    churches,   or,   more    commonly,   from    their 
saunterings  in  the  streets  or  by  the  sea-shore,  to  the 
place  where  the  Gospel  was  proclaimed  with  earnest 
and  often  with  thrilling  eloquence.     On  one  occa- 
sion two  young  ladies,  members  of  a  Universalist 
congregation,  being  attracted  to  his  evening  service, 
listened  to  a  sermon  on  the  "speechlessness"  of  the 
guest  who  was  found  at  the  kingly  banquet  Avithout 
the  wedding  garment.     The  effect  on  the  audience 
generally  was   very   marked,   and   the    two   young 
ladies  went  home  alarmed  over  their  spiritual  desti- 
tution.    A  lady  with  whom  Mr.  Dickerson  had  a 


s 


■f 


196 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


pleasant  acquaintance,  gently  taking  him  to  task  the 
next  day  for  preaching  such  fear-inspiring  sermons, 
and  stating  that  these  young  ladies  had  passed  a 
sleepless  night  after  hearing  him,  ''  Good,"  he 
replied,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  they  were  touched 
by  what  they  heard.  I  hope  they  will  give  them- 
selves no  sleep  until  they  have  made  their  peace 
with  God,  and  are  entitled  to  a  robe  of  righteousness 
which  will  fit  them  to  appear  at  the  marriage  supper 
of  the  Lamb." 

We  have  already  adverted  to  Mr.  Dickerson's 
leading  characteristics  as  a  preacher.  He  was,  by 
unanimous  consent,  an  easy,  graceful,  effective,  and 
eloquent  speaker ;  forcible  in  manner,  fluent  and 
often  extremely  felicitous  in  expression,  rich  in  illus- 
tration, solid  and  sufficiently  profound  in  thought, 
and  his  whole  elocution  vivified  by  unmistakable 
Christian  fervor  —  ''Truths  divine  came  mended 
from  his  lips."  As  a  preacher  of  Christ  he  sought 
to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God.  If  he  de- 
lighted in  the  milder,  he  did  not  shrink  from  the 
sterner,  utterances  of  the  Gospel.  If  Calvary  was 
in  the  foreground,  Sinai  was  as  uniformly  in  the 
background  of  his  picture.  Through  his  Christian 
fidelity  a  ''  violated  law  spoke  out  its  thunders," 
while,  with  a  more  loving  readiness,  from  a  heart 
and  lips  on  which  had  descended  its  richest  balm, 
"  the  Gospel  whispered  peace."  He  sought  to  preach 
the  whole  Gospel  in  its  rounded  fullness.  His 
morning  sermons,  generally  more  elaborate,  and 
designed  more  especially  for  Christians  —  though 
rarely  closing  without  an  appeal  to  the  unconverted 


REMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


197 


I 


—  were,  to  the  thoughtful  hearers,  a  feast  of  fat 
things.  His  reading  of  the  hymns  was  often  strik- 
ingly impressive,  and  many  will  recall  the  glowing 
and  almost  inspired  fervor  with  which  he  read  such 
hymns  as. 

In  the  Cross  of  Christ  T  glory, 
Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  oi'  time, 

and  felt  that  no  one  could  doubt,  were  it  even  but 
from  the  soul  whicli  he  threw  into  that  reading,  that 
he  did  glory  supremely  in  the  Cross  of  Christ.  He 
usually  spent  about  fifteen  minutes  of  the  morning 
service  in  commenting  on  the  scriptures  which  he 
read,  and  his  expositions  were  often  exceedingly 
felicitous  and  instructive.  Many  a  passage  opened 
itself  luminously  to  the  hearers.  Then  followed 
the  sermon,  which  always  commanded  a  rapt 
attention  to  tlie  end. 

Of  his  pastoral  labors  we  really  need  say  nothing. 
To  a  man  so  constituted,  so  tender,  so  social,  so  sym- 
pathizing and  magnetic,  and  then  transformed  by 
grace,  to  be  a  good,  faithful,  and  beloved  pastor  was 
a  moral  necessity.  No  wonder  then  that  he  won  the 
unanimous  and  enthusiastic  love  of  his  people.  One 
of  the  members  of  the  church  recently  writing  of 
him  to  me,  says,  "  I  thank  God  we  are  to  have  that 
precious  life  written.  I  have  often  wished  it  could 
be  done !  Such  lives  are  rare,  and  its  influence  will 
be  greatly  beneficial  to  all  who  have  the  pleasure  of 
its  perusal.  I  wish  we  might  have  some  of  those 
inspiring  sermons  in  the  memorial !  O,  how  I  enjoyed 
them !  It  seemed  to  me  he  was  inspired — I  believe 
he  was  full  of  inspiration,  for  there  was  an  unction 


198 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


in  his  sermons  rarely  met  with.  I  did  appreciate 
him  when  he  was  our  pastor,  and  felt  then  that  we 
were  a  favored,  happy  people.  He  spoke  the  truth 
so  plainly,  but  always  in  love.  How  ready  he  always 
was  to  endorse  every  good  thing !  He  never  waited 
until  a  thing  was  popular,  but  his  great  heart  and 
mind  could  take  it  all  in,  could  see  the  end  from  the 
be<yinninsr.  When  I  think  of  all  he  accomplished 
during  the  five  years  here  in  South  Boston,  it  seems 
as  if  he  must  have  been  with  us  a  life-time.  The 
place  is  dearer  to  me  because  he  and  his  loved  ones 
have  lived  here,  and  I  know  that  Boston  will  ever 
feel  the  influence  of  his  noble  life — I  have  ever  felt 
that  our  church  would  be  a  hard  place  for  his  suc- 
cessor, the  people  were  so  thoroughly  attached  to 
your  beloved  husband.'* 

We  insert  here  from  a  series  of  articles  entitled 
"  Pulpit  Portraits  from  Boston,"  published  in  The 
Examiner  in  July,  1870,  the  following  sketch  of  Mr. 
Dickerson : 

The  former  connection  of  Rev.  J.  S.  Dickerson,  D.D., 
with  The  Examiner  would  sufficiently  prepare  your 
readers  to  welcome  a  warm  tribute  to  the  many  merits 
of  another  new  Baptist  clergyman  of  Boston.  Called 
recently  from  Pittsburgh,  Dr.  Dickerson  has  already 
strongly  established  himself  in  his  new  field  of  labor  at 
the  "  South  Baptist "  church,  and  in  the  affections  and 
confidence  of  his  people.  Much  is  expected  of  him,  and 
his  pastorate  will  be  no  sinecure  ;  but  evidently  he  is 
not  a  man  to  covet  easy  places.  He  enters  into  his  work 
with  a  skill  and  animation  that  shows  the  practiced  hand 
and  the  grace-taught   heart.     We    attended  one  of  his 


REMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


199 


evening  services  a  while  since,  and  heard  him  blow  the 
gospel  trumpet  with  no  uncertain  sound.  His  text  was 
the  Saviour's  golden  declaration,  "  There  is  joy  in  the 
presence  of  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that 
repenteth,"  and  a  well-filled  house  listened  intently  to 
his  sermon  till  the  close.  The  discourse  was  topical, 
pictorial,  and  though  in  portions  somewhat  diffuse,  quite 
clear  and  forcible.  One  illustration  (of  the  event  of 
repentance,  and  its  joyful  effect  "  in  the  presence  of  the 
angels  of  God,")  would  dwell  long  in  a  hearer's  memory. 
It  was  an  instance  from  the  speaker's  personal  recollec- 
tions, of  a  company  of  repentant  rebels  gathered  out  of 
several  regiments  of  Confederate  prisoners  at  Fort  Dela- 
ware during  the  war.  The  scene  of  the  oath-taking  was 
vividly  drawn,  the  washing  of  the  soiled  and  tattered 
troop  in  the  river  (apt  emblem  of  baptism,  though  the 
preacher  did  not  turn  aside  to  use  it),  their  rehabilitation 
in  "  loyal  blue,"  and  finally  the  joy  in  the  presence  of  the 
army  when  they  marched  to  the  sound  of  music,  on  the 
parade-ground,  and  took  their  place  in  the  ranks  of  the 
country's  defenders. 

Dr.  Dickerson  has  a  pleasant  voice  and  natural  ges- 
ticulation. We  noticed  nothing  affected  in  his  manner 
or  utterance.  Men  will  be  apt  to  hear  and  remember 
the  truth  told  from  his  lips.  Occasionally  he  uses  a 
quaint  phrase,  and  sometimes  breaks  out  with  an  unex- 
pected apostrophe  ;  but  his  style  is  not  daring  enough 
to  be  dangerous  to  the  general  good  effect,  and  he  never 
grows  boisterous.  He  is  short  of  stature  but  shrewd  of 
head. 

Warmly  we  joined  in  the  Doctor's  expressive  prayer, 
at  the  close,  that  the  congregation  might  not  turn  away 
that  night  in  wooden  insensibility,  "  like  a  door  turning 
on  its  hinges  ; "  and  when  we  went  out,  we  carried  with 


200 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON 


us  the  conviction  that   the    South  Baptist  church   had 
secured  the  right  man. 

In  August,  1870,  Mr.  Dickerson  made  a  trip  with 
one  or  two  of  his  members  to  Montreal  and  the 
Saguenay  River.     He  thus  writes : 

MOXTREAL,  Aug.,  1870. 

I  am  in  Her  Majesty's  Dominion.  The  hotel  is  noth- 
ing to  speak  of,  although  it  is  much  spoken  about.  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  prefer  the  board  at  Dickerson  Hall 
to  anything  we  have  as  yet  attained.  *  *  *  ^y^  jj^^j 
a  splendid  day  yesterday  on  the  St.  Lawrence  River, 
from  Ogdensburg  to  Montreal  —  down  among  the  rapids 
all  the  way.  It  was  novel  and  inspiring.  This  morning 
we  went  into  the  Catholic  cathedral  here.  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  it  when  I  see  you.  It  is  a  fine  building, 
but  otherwise  a  perfect  humbug  —  pictures,  furniture 
and  all.  I  received  your  letters,  and  read  them  before 
I  ate  my  supper  last  night.  They  were  like  water  to  a 
thirsty  soul.  I  am  going  to  read  them  again  in  a  few 
moments.  I  do  hope  you  are  having  a  nice  time,  and  I 
think  you  are.  I  believe  it  will  be  greatly  to  the 
physical  well-being  of  you  all  to  enjoy  the  air  and  water 
of  Owl's  Head.  I  shall  be  disappointed  if  I  do  not 
have  a  few  more  days  there  with  you.  *  *  *  j  am 
already  looking  forward  to  work  and  comfort  in  our  nice 
new  house,  in  the  fall  and  winter.  I  think  we  have 
hopeful  and  joyous  prospects  before  us.  Never  were 
we  more  comfortably  or  honorably  situated.  A  good 
position,  a  good  field,  and  warm,  hearty  appreciation 
and  co-operation  !  Let  us  be  grateful,  and  try  to  be 
more  consecrated  to  the  great  and  noble  work  in  which 
we  are  permitted  to  engage  —  for  which  we  are  privi- 
leged to  make  sacrifices  !     I  doubt  whether  I  shall  ever 


REMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


201 


again  have  any  better  opportunity  to  serve  the  cause  of 
Him  who  has  done  so  much  for  me  —  so  much  that,  but 
for  His  grace,  I  should  have  been  a  poor,  miserable, 
inefficient,  and  ignoble  character,  not  to  say  worse.  All 
my  social  position,  all  my  poor  attainments  in  mental, 
moral,  and  social  culture,  I  owe  to  Jesus,  who  pardoned 
me  my  sins,  and  started  and  helped  me  in  a  better  and 
upward  direction.  And  among  my  blessings  I  count 
the  joyful  coming  of  my  dear,  precious  Emma.  *  *  * 
Mr.  P.  is  a  rare  good  man,  and  an  enjoyable  traveling 
companion.  Remember  me  to  the  family  at  Owl's  Head, 
and  particularly  to  the  Cheneys,  who  have  been  so  kind 
to  us.     *     *     * 

From  a  letter  written  while  I  was  in  Rochester, 
N.  Y.,  visiting  my  sister,  Mrs.  Robins,  who  was  very 
sick,  and  who  died  a  few  months  after,  we  quote  a 
few  sentences: 

I  am  sorry  to  read  your  words  of  discouragement  as 
to  Maggie  !  Could  she  not  stand  a  slow  journey  hither? 
And  if  so  is  there  not  hope  that  the  salt  air  and  mao-- 
netic  treatment  would  help  her  ?  I  should  not  want  to 
take  any  responsibility  in  the  case,  for  she  might  die  on 
the  way,  but  if  they  should  deem  it  best  I  will  do  all  I 
can  to  make  the  experiment  a  successful  one.  *  *  * 
Dr.  Fulton  goes  to  Brooklyn  !  I  think  it  is  a  great 
mistake  ;  and  yet  it  may  be  one  of  those  mysterious 
"providences"  which  occur  against  all  human  calculation, 
and  sometimes  in  spite  of  them.  He  goes  right  off,  I 
believe.  Next  Sunday  I  propose  to  settle  the  debt 
business.      My  preference   was  to  defer  it    for    awhile 

—  but  some  of  the  folks  thought  it  best — *'now  or 

always."  The  thing  will  be  put  through,  I  hope.  They 
want  you  to  pledge  the  Ladies'  Circle  for  two  hundred 


202 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


dollars,  to  be  paid  during  the  year  !  The  Sunday  school 
will  give  one  hundred  dollars  or  more,  in  addition  to 
what  they  have  done.  *  *  *  j  fg^l  very  sad  about 
affairs  in  Rochester  ;  but  it's  all  right.  Sooner,  perhaps, 
than  we  think,  we  shall  all  be  reunited  in  that  better 
country,  where  there  is  no  death,  neither  sorrow  nor 
crying.  I  do  not  expect  death,  as  you  sometimes  seem 
to  think  I  do  ;  but  I  no  longer  dread  it.  I  love  life  as 
ever,  and  am  as  hopeful,  buoyant,  and  trustful  as  ever 
of  the  future  ;  but  I  am  a  good  deal  less  earth-bound, 
and  feel  that  the  greatest  thing  is  to  cultivate  that  work, 
those  friendships,  and  that  inner  spiritual  life  which  will 
gladden  and  bless  the  sweet  and  eternal  hereafter.  *  *  * 
Don't  cut  your  visit  short ;  but  expect  a  cordial  and 
joyful  welcome  at  its  close.     *     *     * 

A  letter  written  to  Dr.  Warren  Randolph,  whom 
he  had  known  and  loved  for  years,  we  are  glad  to 
insert : 

425  4th  St.,  So.  Boston,  May  23,  1870. 

My  Dear  Randolph:  You  see  where  I  am!  There's 
no  knowing  what  a  man  may  come  to  who  starts  in  life 
with  even  pretty  good  prospects.  Actually  here  in 
"Down  East."  No  "flourishin',"  no  "in-coming  tides 
of  immigration,"  no  "  vast  rivers  running  to  the  sea," 
no  "  westward-the-star-of-empire  "  fallutinism  to  sing  ; 
but  simply  a  down -east  Yankee,  where  a  fellow  has  got 
to  work  or  starve,  to  he  something  or  else  to  be  a 
nobody  ;  where  splurging  don't  go  half  as  far,  or  accom- 
plish half  as  much  as  it  does  elsewhere  ;  where,  in  fact, 
a  man  is  valued  far  nearer  his  actual  weight,  and  where 
the  weights  are  looked  into  more  impudently  than  any- 
where else  on  this  continent  —  that's  just  where  I  am. 

You  see  at  a  glance,  Randolph,  the  situation.     I  have 


REMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


203 


brought  my  traps  to  a  poor  market,  but  here  I  am,  and  I 
am  bound  in  a  true  Yankee  spirit  to  "  go  in." 

I  had  expected  to  have  seen  you  in  person  on  my  way 
hither.  I  had  hoped  to  have  stopped  at  Philadelphia 
for  a  day  or  two,  but  concluded  at  the  last  to  come  via 
Rochester,  New  York,  that  Mrs.  Dickerson  might  see 
her  kindred  and  friends. 

I  preached  my  first  sermons  a  week  ago  yesterday. 
Am  to  be  "  recognized  "  next  Sabbath  evenins:.  After 
that^  hope  to  be  able  to  do  a  good  deal  better. 

Thus  far  I  have  been  favored  with  good  audiences 
and  favorable  opinions.  I  do  earnestly  hope  and  confi- 
dently believe  that  God's  blessing  will  be  with  me.  I 
have  a  fine  field  and  I  think  a  fine  chance.  Come  over 
and  explore  with  me.  I  shall  be  glad  to  welcome  you 
and  Mrs.  R. 

I  am  pleased  as  well  as  any  man  need  to  be.  It  will 
be  my  own  fault  or  misfortune  if  I  do  not  accomplish 
something  here  for  Christ  and  the  Baptists  in  South 
Boston. 

I  am  almost  settled  in  a  snug  little  house,  and  will  be 
glad  to  greet  you  at  my  door.  God  bless  you  and  your 
family  and  your  work.  I  thank  you,  Randolph,  for  your 
fraternal  interest  in  and  love  for  me.  I  want  to  show 
you  in  some  way  that  T  appreciate  it  and  you. 

Hoping  you  will  pray  forme  in  my  difficult  work  and 
new  field,  I  am  Affectionately  yours, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

I  fear  I  can  not  be  at  anniversaries. 

Mr.  Dickerson  had  scarcely  been  a  year  in  Boston 
when  his  labors  began  to  '*tell"  upon  him.  First 
he  had  some  of  those  afflictions  popularly  known  as 
"  Job's  comforters  " — a  succession  of  terrible  boils, 


\5  1 


204 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


REMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


205 


at  one  time  thirteen  of  them  on  his  neck  and  throat. 
These  threw  him  into  a  fever,  and  when  sufficiently 
recovered  to  resume  work,  he  looked  pale  and  mis- 
erable. He  would  not,  indeed,  be  recognized  as  a 
sick  man,  told  those  who  undertook  to  condole 
with  him,  to  look  for  some  more  fitting  objects  of 
their  sympathy,  and  declared  that  he  "  could  do  as 
much  work  any  day  as  two  or  three  of  your  big,  fat, 
vealy  fellows." 

But  he  was  sick,  however  indisposed  to  acknowl- 
edge it,  and  the  fact  was  palpable  to  everybody  but 
himself.  It  was  evident  to  the  church  that  he 
needed  a  long  and  thorough  rest,  and  of  course  his 
mind  and  that  of  his  friends  turned  naturally  to  that 
grand  panacea  for  diseased  throats  and  overworked 
brains  and  shattered  nerves— a  trip  to  Europe.  But 
how  to  compass  it  ?  His  church  was  not  quite  in  a 
condition  to  meet  all  the  expenses  attendant  on  both 
the  absence  and  journey,  and  his  own  finances,  fol- 
lowing the  customary  fortunes  of  Baptist  clergymen, 
had  not  expanded  into  ver}^  magnificent  propor- 
tions. In  fact,  between  ordinary  household  expenses, 
and  those  occasioned  by  the  visitations  of  sickness 
and  death,  he  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  extricating 
himself  fully  from  debts  contracted  in  his  years  of 
business.  We  insert  here  a  letter  or  two  illustrating 
at  once  his  business  embarrassments,  and  his  con- 
scientiousness in  dealing  with  debts  which,  though 
legally  outlawed,  still  stood  valid  in  the  forum  of 
conscience  and  of  honor.  In  1871  he  wrote  to  Rev. 
H.  J.  Botts,  of  Manchester,  England,  an  old  news- 
paper correspondent  of  the  Chronicle^  sending  him  a 


part  of  the  amount  due  him,  nearly  one  hundred 
dollars,  and  asking  for  information  regarding  the 
entire  amount.     He  received  the  following  reply : 

'*  I  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  receive  a  letter 
from  you  not  long  since.  The  remittance  you  speak 
of,  which,  after  the  '  writing  off'  of  the  affair  years 
ago,  I  ceased  to  anticipate,  will,  as  it  happens,  he 
very  useful  just  now  on  the  birth  of  our  tenth  child. 
But  I  am  more  delighted  and  deeply  moved  by  the 
truly  Christian  spirit  and  sterling  principle  evinced 
by  this  communication.  The  righteous  Lord  will 
surely  supply  all  your  need  in  the  future  according 
to  His  glorious  riches  in  Christ. 

"  I  had  quite  forgotten  the  amount  due  to  me  from 
the  Chronicle^  and  have  had  to  hunt  up  old  memo- 
randa to  supply  the  information  you  ask."  Then  he 
gives  a  statement  of  the  account,  and  adds,  as  Mr. 
D.  had  mentioned  a  contemplated  trip  to  Europe, 
"  I  trust  you  will  enjoy  your  contemplated  tour !  I 
spent  three  months  five  years  ago  in  Italy  and  have 
most  interesting  reminiscences  of  that  city  (Rome) 
and  its  historic  and  sacred  associations.  I  half  envy 
you  your  daily  rambles  in  the  city  and  Campagna ! 
I  trust  you  will  come  back  by  Manchester  and  Liver- 
pool. If  you  do,  let  me  know,  and  I  will  meet  you 
at  the  station,  give  you  a  bed,  and  bread  and  cheese 
at  my  house,  and  pilot  you  round  this  Cottonopolis. 
Do  come,  A  hearty  welcome  awaits  you.  My  wife 
desires  to  express  her  thanks  for  your  kind  Christian 
wishes,  and  her  high  appreciation  (with  mine)  of 
your  treatment  of  us  in  this  matter." 

In  connection  with  this  letter  we  step  back  for  a 


■i 


206 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


moment  to  give  another  from  Rev.  C.  E.  Smith,  who 
had  been,  in  like  manner,  an  unpaid  contributor  to 
the  Chronicle,  but  to  whom  in  1869  he  found  himself 
in  a  condition  to  discharge  his  obligation.  The  tenor 
of  his  letter  to  Mr.  Smith  will  appear  from  the  fol- 
lowing reply:  XT        Oq    TORQ 

Cincinnati,  Nov.  2d,  l»by. 

My  Dear  Brother  Dickerson  :  1  fear  you  have  too 
good  a  memory  for  your  own  interests.  It  is  not  at  all 
according  to  ''  the  wisdom  of  this  world,"  for  a  man  to 
remember  and  to  offer  to  pay  a  debt,  long  since  incurred 
and  outlawed,  and,  moreover,  abandoned  by  the  creditor. 
It  would  be  in  the  highest  degree  accordant  with  that 
kind  of  wisdom  for  me  to  take  advantage  of  your  offer, 
and  send  you  my  bill.  But  I  shall  do  no  such  thing.  I 
intend  to  show  myself  equally  foolish  with  yourself.  I 
know  too  well  how  hard  it  is  to  pay  old  debts  out  of  a 
pastor's  salary,  to  be  willing  to  allow  you  to  pay  me  in 
that  way.  I  accept  the  loss  as  my  small  share  of  the 
sacrifice  which  the  war  entailed  upon  the  Christian 
Chronicle.  Consider  this  as  a  receipt  in  full,  and  regard 
yourself  as  my  debtor  in  future  only  in  respect  to  "  love 
and  good  works."  I  am  sure  I  am  much  indebted  to 
you  for  the  example  of  intesjrity  you  have  set  me.  I 
am  very  glad  to  have  had  this  opportunity  to  reopen  a 
correspondence  which  as  you  say  was  a  pleasant  one. 
Will  you  not  write  me  again  at  your  leisure  without 
reference  to  the  subject  of  your  previous  letter.  I  hope 
I' may  meet  you  personally  before  long  and  enlarge  the 
acquaintance  which  has  heretofore  been  purely  episto- 
lary. I  beg,  and  my  wife  also,  to  be  remembered  to  Mrs. 
Dickerson,  with  whom  we  both  enjoyed  some  very  agree- 
able intercourse  in  Rochester. 

Fraternally  yours, 

C.  E.  SmTH. 


REMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


207 


At  a  later  period,  as  the  last  of  these  business 
creditors,  Mr.  Dickerson  wrote  to  the  firm  of  G.  & 
C.  Merriam,  of  Springfield,  Mass.,  assuring  them  that, 
although  for  years  his  salary  had  barely  sufficed  for 
his  support,  yet  he  had  not  forgotten  his  indebted- 
ness to  them.  He  received  a  few  days  after  the 
following  reply : 

Springfield,  Mass.,  March  3,  1874. 
Rev.  James  S.  Dickerson  —  Dear  Sir :  We  have 
your  favor  of  Feb.  28th,  and  we  beg  to  express  to  you 
our  appreciation  of  your  offer  to  settle  the  balance  which 
you  suppose  to  be  due  us.  We  have  not  been  able  to 
find  any  record  of  the  account,  and  would  therefore  leave 
it  with  you  to  remit  such  a  sum  as  you  believe  to  be  right. 
In  case  you  are  in  circumstances  somewhat  straightened, 
we  shall  take  pleasure  in  considering  the  matter  as  settled 
without  a  remittance  from  you. 

Yours  Truly, 

G.  &  C.  Merriam. 
Mr.  Dickerson  immediately  wrote  again,  giving 
them  some  dates,  and  mentioning  circumstances 
which  would  bring  to  their  remembrance  the  old 
debt,  Avhich  amounted  to  about  eighty  dollars,  with- 
out interest,  and  received  in  reply  a  letter,  from 
which  we  make  some  extracts :  "  *  *  *  We  have 
your  favor  of  the  9th  inst.  We  now  recall  more 
particularly  the  original  circumstances."  The  writer, 
having  gone  over  them,  at  the  close  of  the  letter 
says :  "  It  is  never  our  policy  to  be  exacting ;  and, 
as  your  experience  has  been  a  trying  one,  we  enclose 
return  draft  to  your  order  for  half  the  amount, 
waiving  all  claims  of  interest.     Hoping  you  may 


208 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


REMOVAL  TO  BOSTON. 


209 


!     i 


have  Job's  experience,  and  your  latter  end  be  better 
than  the  beginning  in  earthly  matters,  we  are  very 
truly  yours." 

We  return  from  this  digression  on  Mr.  Dickerson's 
finances,  and  financial  honesty,  to  his  present  illness. 
His  need  of  protracted  rest  and  change  of  scene 
was  apparent ;  but  it  was  not  equally  apparent  how 
he  was  to  attain  them.  But  at  this  juncture  his 
uncle,  James  Stokes,  came  nobly  to  the  rescue.  He 
had  formerly  aided  him  in  purchasing  the  Philadel- 
phia Chronicle^  had  remembered  him  munificently 
in  New  Years'  presents,  and  extended  to  him  at 
his  home  an  unfailing  hospitality.  He  now  came 
forward  with  the  offer  of  one  thousand  dollars  to 
meet  the  expenses  of  a  trip  across  the  Atlantic. 
His  brethren  in  the  church  cordially  seconded  the 
proposal ;  and  when  he  laid  the  matter  before  them 
at  a  large  meeting,  and  threw  himself  upon  their 
decision,  unanimously  voted  him  a  leave  of  absence 
for  four  months,  to  be  extended  at  his  pleasure  to  six 
months,  and  supplemented  the  resources  furnished 
by  his  uncle  with  a  pledge  to  continue  his  salary, 
and  supply  at  their  own  expense  the  pulpit  in  his 
absence.  This  generosity  toward  a  pastor  who  had 
been  with  them  less  than  a  twelve-month,  moved 
his  heart  alike  with  joy  and  gratitude.  It  attested 
strikingly  that  magnetism  of  his  nature,  by  which 
he  could  not  merely  command  esteem,  but  inspire 
affection.  The  quick  sympathies  of  his  spirit  evoked 
equally  quick  responses. 

Still  his  joy  was  not  complete.  The  provision  for 
his  perhaps  larger  —  I  fear,  not  better  —  half  were 


wanting.  He  seemed  destined  to  go  alone,  and  to 
this  neither  he  nor  that  other  half  looked  with 
complacency.  For  myself,  in  truth,  I  scarcely  con- 
templated the  possibility  of  his  going  unattended 
by  me,  and  I  had  a  strong,  though  apparently  not 
very  well  founded,  presentiment  that  the  way  would 
yet  be  opened  for  my  accompanying  him.  It  was 
opened.  Just  as  I  had  assured  him,  in  reply  to 
some  gentle  caution  from  him  against  over-confi- 
dence, with  its  probable  disappointment,  that  I 
"felt  it  in  my  bones"  that  I  should  go,  he  opened  a 
fresh  letter  from  his  uncle,  and  called  out  to  me, 
"Come,  old  'bones,'  here  is  something  to  gladden 
you!" — he  might  have  added,  "and  cttler  you  in 
your  new  r61e  of  prophet."  His  uncle  had  written 
that,  in  talking  the  matter  over  with  his  wife,  they 
had  both  agreed  that  it  would  be  better  in  every 
way  that  Mrs.  Dickerson  should  accompany  him  ;  so 
he  had  enlarged  the  sum  originally  promised,  had 
paid  their  "  passage  over,  taking  a  double  stateroom 
in  the  new  steamer,  'Oceanic,'  of  the  White  Star 
Line  ;  and  I  want  you  both  to  be  on  hand  and  readv 
to  sail  on  the  third  of  June." 

My  husband's  enthusiasm  which,  while  he  had 
anticipated  a  solitary  journey,  had  not  been  high, 
was  now  kindled  and  glowing;  his  first  tone  of 
banter  was  immediately  exchanged  for  utterances 
of  devout  gratitude  which  should  be  evinced  in 
deeper  future  consecration,  and  then  we  both  set 
about  our  preparations  in  rapid  earnest.  So  strong, 
undefinably  strong,  had  been  my  convictions  that  I 
should  go,  that  my  personal  preparations,  in  the  way 


210 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


\l 


of  wardrobe,  etc.,  were  almost  entirely  complete. 
Our  oldest  son  was  to  remain  in  Boston,  our  two 
younger  children  were  to  make  their  home  with  my 
mother,  in  Rochester ;  Mr.  Dickerson  went  person- 
ally over  to  Newton  and  engaged  three  of  the 
professors  in  the  Theological  Seminary  there  to 
minister  to  his  people,  and,  in  view  of  the  possibility 
of  our  never  returning,  left  a  sealed  package  con- 
taining directions  for  the  disposition  of  his  property, 
and  his  wishes  regarding  his  children. 

Our  preparations  were  soon  complete.  Our 
assembled  people  sang,  evidently  from  their  hearts, 
just  before  we  left: 

As  on  the  deep  thy  servants  sail 
O  give  them,  Lord,  the  prosperous  gale, 
And  on  their  hearts,  where'er  they  go, 
Let  all  thy  heavenly  breezes  blow. 

To  which  chorused  prayer  our  hearts  united  with 
theirs  in  responding  "Amen."  Then  we  were  in 
New  York,  and  on  the  3d  of  June,  1871,  we  bade 
"our  native  land"  a  temporary  "good-niglit,"  and 
in  company  with  tlie  eldest  daughter  of  Mr.  Dicker- 
son's  brother  Thomas,  were  soon  on  the  "  Oceanic  " 
careering 

O'er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark  blue  sea. 

Our  thoughts  as  boundless,  and  our  souls  as  free. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


VISIT     TO     EUROPK. 


We  left  New  York  on  the  third  of  June,  1871 ; 
we  reached  it  in  returning  on  the  third  of  October 
following,  after  an  absence  of  just  four  months.    Our 
route  lay  through  England  and  Wales,  France,  Italy, 
Germany,  Switzerland,  Belgium,  and  back  through 
France,  England,  and  Scotland.     We  traveled  uni- 
formly by  day,  never  missed  a  train,  and  with  our 
four  eyes  saw  as  much,  I  think,  as  eight  or  ten  eyes 
do  commonly  within  the  same  time.     Mr.  Dickerson 
had  quick  powers  of  observation,  a  ready  perception 
of  contrasts,  and  his  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous  as 
well  of  the  beautiful,  and  his  unfailing  humor,  made 
the  journey  an  exhaustless  source  alike  of  pleasure 
and   of   profit.     His   health    rapidly    improved,    his 
cough  almost  entirely  left  him,  and  Avhen  he  reached 
Switzerland,  and  began  to  climb  its  mountain  passes, 
and  its   nearly  inaccessible   heights,  following   the 
chamois  to  their  cloud-enveloped  homes,  or,  as  the 
diligence  wound  around  some  serpentine  path,  making 
a  short  cut  across,  and  dropping  down  upon  us  sud- 
denly from  some  overhanging  craggy  eminence,  he 
felt  all  the  buoyant  exhilaration  of  the  mountain 
atmosphere,  while  his  soul  thrilled  and  his  frame 
quivered  with  exultant  joy  over  the  picturesque  and 


i 


211 


212 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


far-spreading  grandeur  by  which  he  was  surrounded. 
He  enjoyed  intensely  his  three  weeks  roaming  over 
Switzerland,  and  returned  reluctantly  to  the  crowded 
haunts  of  men,  even  though  they  replaced  with  the 
numberless  and  matchless  charms  of  art  the  majesty 
of  nature. 

« 

In  all  this  journeying  Mr.  Dickerson  remained 
true  to  his  character  of  a  Christian  pastor.  Before 
starting  out  on  each  day  he  had  family  worship  in 
the  hotel,  and  he  always  observed  the  sanctity  of  the 
Sabbath,  uniformly  seeking  out,  when  it  was  possi- 
ble, some  place  of  public  Christian  worship.  The 
theater  he,  of  course,  avoided  as  conscientiously  as 
he  would  at  home,  and  from  any  of  that  license 
which  too  many  Christians,  and  I  think  some  Chris- 
tian ministers,  allow  themselves  under  the  relaxing 
influence  of  foreign  usages  and  the  plea  of  being 
beyond  the  danger  of  influencing  by  example,  he 
systematically  and  rigorously  refrained.  He  was 
abroad  the  consistent  Christian  which  he  had  been 
at  home.  He  could  not  go  any  where  mutilated  of 
that  religion  which  was  a  part  of  his  life. 

Yet  of  all  innocent  amusements  he  was  ever  the 
life  and  the  soul ;  he  sympathized  to  the  full  with 
the  pleasures  of  both  old  and  young.  His  presence 
was  the  light  and  inspiration  of  any  gathering.  On 
his  brother's  yacht  he  would  entertain  the  party 
untiringly  with  his  vivacious  humor  and  quick  rep- 
artee, and  then  at  request  dash  off  a  few  verses  com- 
memorative of  the  occasion.  The  followins:  lines 
extemporized  after  a  week's  trip,  as  the  bounding 
boat  (named  the  "  Fleur-de-Lis*')  was  nearing  the 


VISIT  TO  EUROPE. 


213 


harbor,  will  show  that  he  had  not  a  little  both  of 
the  soul  and  the  rhythmical  sense  of  the  poet  : 


THE  FLEUli-DE-LIS. 

My  beauty !  'tis  for  thee 
My  graceful  Fleur-de-lis 

My  harp  shall  ring. 
Of  all  thy  masts  and  spars, 
Decked  by  our  gallant  tars, 
With  stripes  and  glorious  stars, 

Joyful  I  sinij. 

When  zephyi-s  softly  blow, 
When  waters  gently  flow, 

And  skies  are  bright. 
Thy  wing-like  sails  all  fair. 
Filled  with  the  baimy  air, 
Banish  each  laud-bound  care 

In  calm  delight. 

But  when  tlie  tempests  roar. 
And  skies  are  fair  no  more. 

And  oceans  yawn, 
Staunch  drives  the  Fleur-de-lis, 
O'er  every  stormy  sea, 
Her  flag  aud  pennant  free. 

Bright  as  the  dawn. 

When  outward  bound  we  ride. 
And  homes  behind  us  hide 

In  distance  far, 
With  joy  we  hail  the  wave. 
Where  wildest  billows  rave, 
Home  of  the  strong  and  brave. 

In  ocean's  war. 

But  when  we're  homeward  bound, 
And  joys  we  sought  and  found 
Are  left  behind, 


214 


H 


JAMES  S.  DICKEUSON. 

Sad  though  our  parting  be, 
Bright  be  tlie  memory 
Of  joys  amid  the  sea 
Forever  shrined. 

And  so,  life's  voyage  past, 
When  tides  are  failing  fast 

On  time's  last  shore, 
May  hope  and  memory  blend 
In  voyage  without  end. 
On  seas  no  storm  shall  rend 

Forevermore. 


VISIT  TO   EUROPE. 


215 


September  13,  1869. 


J.  S.  D.,  Chaplain. 


Of  Mr.  Dickerson's  brief  tour  in  Europe  he  made 
very  large  jottings ;  a  very  model,  perhaps,  of  trav- 
elers' notes,  showing  that  his  eyes  were  open  upon 
everything.  They  are  full  of  condensed  information. 
On  our  return  he  delivered  two  or  three  lectures  in 
South  Boston  relating  to  his  journey.  From  his 
notes  for  the  lectures,  which  lie  before  me,  I  give  a 
few  opening  jottings: 

My  style — "  Conversational." 
My  design — "  To  have  you  see  with  my  eyes." 
My  matter — "  What  most  folks  would  omit." 
So  if  I  get  eloquent  it  is  a  mistake,  and  you  are  at 
liberty  to  stop  me  short  and  drown  it  out,  as  is  often  the 
case  with  us  speakers,  "  with  uproarious  applause." 

•  ***  «««• 

The  effects  of  judicious  and  extensive  travel ! 

Aside  from  health,  information — its  lessons  of  patience 
(under  difficulties) — human  nature. 

E.  G.  Sea-sickness — wife  sick—  myself  not  sick,  but 
feeling  "  so  mean  that  even   my  stomach  became  dis- 


gusted with  me."     Before  I  was  out  three  days  I  felt 
like  "  throwing  up  "  the  whole  trip. 

THE   OCEAN! 

It  is  all  very  well  for  Byron,  canopied  by  the  fair  skies 
of  Italy,  and  lullabied  by  the  music  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean, to  sing, 

Roll  on  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean,  roll ; 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain. 

*  ♦  *  *  *  *  in 

Time  writes  no  wrinkle  on  thine  azure  brow;  ' 

Such  as  creation's  dawn  beheld—thou  rollest  now  I 

"  No  wrinkle  !  "  we  will  call  them  dimples. 

"Thou  rollest  now!"  That's  not  bad.  We  all  did 
that — we  were  rolled  out,  then  we  were  glad  to  "roll 
in. 


5) 


The  awful  strength  of  the  ocean, 
The  desert  waste  of  the  ocean. 
The  highway  of  nations— the  pathway  of  nations. 

"  Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  ! "    Yet  we  saw 
but  three  vessels  on  our  outward  passage. 

The  following  are  some  of  his  letters  to  his  chil- 
dren: 

Steamer  Oceanic,  Monday  p.m.,  June  5. ' 

My  dear  Sox  :  This  is  my  first  attempt  at  writing 
since  we  started.  We  have  had  a  splendid  run  thus  far, 
and  fully  tested  the  sailing  capacities  of  the  Oceanic. 
Scarcely  one  has  been  sick  thus  far,  but  a  considerable 
number  begin  to  look  sort  of  "squeamish."  The  ocean 
has  not  been  as  rough  any  hour  as  we  have  seen  it  on 
the  Sound.  *  *  I  have  been  thinking  of  you  since 
we  started,  and  hope  the   Summer  will  pass  pleasantly 


.1     I'll 


216 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSOX 


VISIT  TO  EUROPE. 


217 


M 


U\ 


11    ' 


and  even  quickly  along.  We  shall  have  lots  to  tell  you 
when  we  get  back  of  what  we  saw  in  Europe.  *  *  * 
Saturday,  June  10.  A  week  on  the  ocean  !  O,  what  a 
sick  and  wo-be-gone  set  !  We  have  tried  to  be  jolly, 
but  it  was  no  use.  I  felt  like  "  throwing  up  "  the  whole 
trip  before  we  had  been  out  five  days.  We  have  spent 
two  or  three  days  in  bed,  but  we  are  getting  better  now. 
The  voyage  has  been  a  splendid  one  for  speed,  and 
everything  save  sickness.  We  have  seen  some  rough 
seas  and  high  winds,  and  have  had  a  new  impression  of 
the  awful  grandeur  of  the  ocean,  and  the  power  and 
greatness  of  the  infinite  God.  How  blessed  to  have 
Him  as  your  friend  when  feeling  that  imminent  and  ter- 
rible dangers  are  near. 

Liverpool,  England.  Here  we  are,  safe  and  sound  ! 
We  have  had  some  big  weather.  I  preached  on  Sunday 
in  the  morning  when  the  sea  was  quiet,  but  in  the  even- 
ing the  sea  rose  high,  and  again  and  again  made  a  clean 
sweep  of  the  main  decks.  One  of  the  waiters  came 
near  being  washed  overboard,  but  was  rescued  by  one 
of  the  officers.  On  Thursday  night  we  shipped  a  very 
heavy  sea,  and  since  then  the  engineer's  steward  has 
been  missing,  and  no  doubt  he  went  to  a  sudden  and 
watery  grave.  One  night  was  particularly  terrible  to 
me,  although  the  officers  laughed  at  its  being  regarded 
as  at  all  dangerous.  Still  that  night  the  captain  was 
creeping  about  softly  until  after  one  o'clock,  and  was 
still  on  deck  when,  for  the  second  time,  I  went  below 
though  not  to  sleep. 

I  thought  of  you  and  Lu,  and  Willie  ;  of  Boston,  the 
friends,  and  the  church  !  I  was  glad  to  know  that  if  the 
ship  did  go  down,  as  it  seemed  at  one  time  she  would, 
when  she  fell  over  on  her  lee  side  and  rolled  down, 
down,  down,  swinging,  trembling  down  until  the  waters 


gurgled  over  her,  and  for  a  second  she  did  not  seem  to 
stir  ! — (It  was  to  me  fearful  !) — to  know  that  my  sins  were 
forgiven— my  heart  changed  by  God's  Holy  Spirit — to 
know  that  Jesus  was  my  friend,  though  I  was  a  poor 
miserable  sinner — to  know  he  had  saved  my  soul  !  But 
the  thought  of  the  loneliness  of  those  I  should  leave 
behind  me,  should  I  be  taken  away,  made  me  pray 
earnestly  though  inwardly  to  Him,  who  holds  the  waters 
in  His  hands.  *  *  *  In  a  few  days  we  leave  London 
direct  for  Rome,  via  Paris  if  we  can  get  through. 
Mamma  sends  love  and  seven  kisses,  and  I  make  the 
number  an  even  dozen.         Your  dear  father, 

J.    S.    DiCKERSOX. 

Dijox,  France,  June  28,  1871. 

My  Dear  Lulu  :  Here  we  are  in  a  real  French  vil- 
lage, and  in  a  real  Frenchy  hotel.  This  place  is  about 
two  hundred  miles  from  Paris.  We  left  that  city  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  reached  here  at  mid- 
night. 

You  know  they  have  had  civil  war  in  Paris  ;  one  part 
of  the  citizens  rising  against  the  other  part,  and  men, 
women,  and  children  have  been  killed  in  the  strife.  The 
fighting  was  done  right  in  the  streets,  and  all  the  build- 
ings in  the  vicinity  were  marked  by  bullets  and  chipped 
off*,  and  in  some  cases  battered  like  forts,  and  in  others 
burned  and  a  mass  of  ruins.  If  you  could  get  hold  of 
some  views  or  descriptions  of  Paris,  you  would  read 
about  the  magnificence  of  the  Tuileries,  the  Palais  Roy- 
al, the  Column  Vendome,  and  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  Well, 
they  are  now  in  indescribable  ruins.  I  have  large  and 
beautiful  photographs  of  them  as  they  were,  and  as  they 
are.  You  will  see  them  when  our  voyage  and  rambles 
are  over,  and  we  are  once  more  at  home.     I  have  wan- 

10 


218 


JA.MES  S.  DICKERSON. 


VISIT  TO  EUROPE. 


219 


II 


dered  a  good  many  hours  looking  at  the  gay  windows  of 
the  shops,  and  at  the  funny  sights  inside  and  out  of  the 
stores.  It  seems  quite  refreshing  to  hear  any  one  speak 
English.  Mamma  is  well,  and  sends  love.  She  helps  us 
greatly  with  the  French.  You  and  Willie  must  learn  to 
speak  it.  Mamma  is  still  in  bed,  but  I  got  up  early  to 
get  these  letters  off. 

From   another  of  the   same  date  to  Willie,  who 
was  nearly  nine  years  old,  he  writes : 

My  Dear  Willie  :  I  have  written  to  Lulu  in  a  great 
hurry  and  must  do  the  same  to  you,  but  don't  take  this 
as  a  specimen  of  my  writing ;  you  know  I  can  write 
tip-top  when  I  am  not  in  too  big  a  hurry.  *  ♦  * 
This  French  business  is  a  funny  affair,  I  tell  you.  When 
we  were  in  Paris,  and  were  planning  to  go  to  Italy,  they 
told  us  we  ouo-ht  to  have  a  little  flask  of  whisky  or 
brandy  to  use  if  we  should  be  suddenly  taken  sick.  So 
I  went  into  a  store,  a  kind  of  hardware  store,  to 
buy  one.  I  said,  "  Parlez-vous  Anglais?"  That 
means,  "Do  you  speak  English"— and  the  clerk 
shook  his  head,  no.  Then  I  began  to  make  them 
understand  what  I  wanted  by  a  few  French  words 
and  some  gestures,  and  soon  a  pleasant  smile  broke  over 
the  face  of  the  clerks,  and  they  said,  "  Oui,  oui,  oui," 
that  is — "  Yes,  yes,  yes  " — and  came  up  bringing  me  a 
demijohn!  I  told  them  no,  T  wanted  one  more  ''petite'^ 
— smaller,  and  then  they  brought  one  about  as  big  as  a 
baby.  Then  I  put  my  hand  on  my  pocket,  so  as  to  show 
them  I  wanted  one  I  could  carry  there  —  then  they 
smiled  all  around  and  said,  "  Oui,  oui,"  and  brought  me 
a  small  pocket  cork-screw!  I  began  to  bo  discouraged, 
and  they  looked  innocent  and  then  wise,  then  surprised 
when  I  shook  my  head  and  shrugged  my  shoulders  in 


true  French  style.  Then  I  went  over  the  whole  case, 
and  was  slow  and  careful,  and  all  of  a  sudden  the  whole 
matter  was  as  plain  to  them  as  could  be,  and  they 
exclaimed,  "Oui,  oui,"  and  came  back  with  an  immense 
powder-horn! ! !  Then  I  made  a  straight  line  for  the 
door  saying,  "  Pardon,  pardon."  That  pocket-flask  cost 
me  much  walking  and  talking,  whenever  I  had  a  leisure 
hour.     I  shall  have  to  tell  you  more  about  it. 

Here  the  people  are  very  polite,  and  if  you  make  all 
sorts  of  blunders,  they  don't  laugh  at  you,  unless  they 
can't  help  it,  poor  souls!  Two  or  three  times  when  we 
have  asked  some  one  to  direct  us  in  the  street,  they  have 
run  after  us  to  tell  us  we  were  going  wrong,  or  to  give  us 
fuller  or  better  information.  It  almost  made  me  cry  to 
see  how  tender  the  younger  people  were  to  the  old  folks. 
Several  times  I  saw  young  men  or  young  women  push- 
ing small  carriages  with  old  people  in  them.  Soldiers 
are  seen  almost  everywhere^ in  Paris.  The  war  is  over, 
but  troops  are  camping  in  all  the  magnificent  gardens 
and  parks;  soldiers  pace  the  streets,  guard  the  ruins, 
stand  sentinel  in  and  around  the  churches.  The  people 
in  religious  matters  are  very  ignorant  but  very  devout. 
They  go  to  church  as  a  mere  form,  many  of  them,  and 
kneel  and  cross  themselves  and  bend  almost  to  the 
ground.  They  are  nearly  all  Catholics.  Dear  Willie, 
how  favored  we  are  that  we  know  about  Jesus,  and  may 
go  to  Him  and  pray  to  Him,  feeling  that  He  will  hear 
us  and  make  us  Christians  in  our  hearts,  so  that  when 
we  die  our  hearts  will  still  love  Him,  though  the  body  is 
dead,  and  can  not  kneel,  or  speak,  or  pray.  I  hope  my 
dear  Willie  is  often  found  praying  to  Jesus  out  of  his 
heart.     *     *     * 

Chambery,  France,  June  29,  1871. 

Dear  Spencer:  Here  we  are  on  or  near  the  boundary 
of  Switzerland  on  our  way  to  Turin  and  Genoa,  at  which 


220 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


latter  place  we  expect  to  stay  over  Sunday.  We  are  all 
usually  well.  I  do  not  seem  to  pick  up  flesh  as  I 
expected  to,  but  my  throat  and  lungs  have  ceased  to 
give  me  any  trouble,  and  my  cough  has  stopped  alto- 
gether. We  are  making  for  Rome  as  fast  as  it  is  well 
to  travel,  and  expect  to  reach  there  in  a  few  days, 
unless  we  conclude  to  go  from  Genoa  by  boat.  *  *  * 
This  place  is  more  like  an  Italian  town  than  any  we  have 
seen  in  France.  The  people  about  the  hotel  as  we  came 
in  last  night  had,  to  our  lady  folks,  a  regular  banditti 
look,  which  they  did  not  like.  When  we  were  shown  to 
our  rooms,  the  walls  and  steps  and  balustrades  were 
all  of  solid,  gloomy  masonry,  and  when  we  entered 
them,  we  found  the  windows  grated  like  those  in 
prisons,  and  the  very  floors  were  stone.  The  ladies  were 
thoroughly  frightened;  but  as  it  was  near  midnight,  and 
the  other  hotels  were  full,  I  told  them  philosophically 
that  if  they  could  not  bring  their  minds  to  go  to  sleep, 

they  could  stay  awake  all  night  and  watch  each  other. 
«     «     « 

Turin^  Italy.  We  have  reached  Turin  after  the  most 
magnificent  day's  ride  we  ever  enjoyed.  We  have  crossed 
the  Alps.  We  came  over  Mt.  Cenis  by  rail  on  what  is 
called  the  Fell  Railway.  But  the  magnificent  scenery! 
The  deep,  deep,  valleys  smiling  in  sunlit  verdure — the 
awful  mountains  overhanging  yet  lost  in  the  clouds  and 
covered  with  perpetual  snow.  I  send  you  some  violets 
which  grew  at  the  base  of  Mt.  Cenis,  whose  head  is 
covered  with  eternal  snow.  When  the  sun  falls  on  these 
snow-clad  peaks  they  look  like  frosted  silver,  banked 
up  and  behind  the  clouds.  As  we  were  descending  the 
mountain,  the  moon  came  out  and  touched  the  peaks 
and  lighted  the  dark  shadows  of  the  valleys.  *  *  * 
This  city  is  one  of  the   most  beautiful  and  modern  of 


ti    i 


VISIT  TO    EUROPE. 


221 


Southern  Europe;  its  population  about  200,000.  Victor 
Emanuel  seems  to  be  quite  popular,  and  his  pictures 
and  busts  are  seen  everywhere.  We  walked  through  the 
Palais  Royal  this  morning  and  saw  some  fine  pictures 
and  statuary;  and  in  the  armory  some  grand  old  relics, 
among  others  a  sword  worn  by  the  1st  Napoleon,  and 
one  of  the  eagles  that  was  carried  at  the  head  of  his 
armies.       *     *     * 

Dear  Lulu:  You  have  written  us  some  real  good 
letters,  and  you  deserve  to  have  a  good  one  from 
each  of  us.  You  must  not  forget  to  ask  us  to  tell  you 
about  the  Falls  of  Giesback — near  Interlachen.  The 
falls  are  narrow  but  very  high,  and  at  night  the  waters 
are  illuminated  with  calcium  lights  of  red,  white  and 
blue.     It  was  very  beautiful. 

To-day  I  went  up  a  thickly  wooded  mountain  on  mule- 
back,  and  crossed  the  Mer-de-Glace,  the  broadest  glacier 
near  Mt.  Blanc.  It  was  a  steep  climb,  and  the  crossing 
was  dangerous,  but  it  was  a  grand  sight.  I  will  tell  you 
more  about  it.  Then  too,  I  must  tell  you  about  the 
strange  clock  at  Berne — where,  when  the  hour  strikes, 
bears  come  out  and  dance,  and  a  rooster  crows,  and  an 
old  man  strikes  a  bell,  and  a  monkey  lifts  his  ears.  In 
the  same  city  was  a  fountain,  with  a  statue  above  it,  and 
on  the  top,  a  big,  fat,  giant,  ogre-looking  fellow  eating 
up  little  children,  as  though  they  were  so  many  raw 
oysters.  One  little  fellow  was  just  going  down  and  his 
legs  were  sticking  out  of  the  giant's  mouth;  a  game  bag 
held  about  a  dozen  more,  and  three  or  four  more  were 
fastened  in  his  girdle.  I  should  think  the  children  in 
Berne  would  hardly  dare  go  down  that  street.  You 
must  get  hold  of  some  nice  book  of  travels  and  read 
about  these  things;  they  are  as  entertaining  as  a  story, 
and  far  more  useful,      *     *     * 


222 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


Rome,  July,  1871. 

Dear  Spen^ceb  :  As  I  have  a  few  moments  before 
breakfast  I  will  write  a  few  lines  to  you.  We  expect 
to  be  received  at  half-past  ten  this  a.  m.  by  "His 
Holiness,  Pio  Nono."  We  were  there  once  before,  but 
as  our  note  of  introduction  had  not  been  previously  (at 
least  one  day  before)  sent  into  the  old  chap,  he  declined 
to  see  us; — or  rather  his  officials  declined  to  let  us  go  in. 
I  felt  a  little  like  telling  them  they  were  a  great  set  of 
humbugs,  from  the  Pope  down.  Our  guide  said,  as  we 
stood  waiting  to  see  whether  we  would  be  presented, 
that  if  we  stayed  in  the  ante- chamber  where  we  were,  we 
could  see  him  as  he  passed,  but  could  not  spoak  to  or 
shake  hands  with  him.  He  added  that  we  would  have 
to  kneel  as  he  passed  by.  This  I  would  not  do.  We 
concluded  to  go  away,  come  again  at  the  regular  time, 
see  him,  and  shake  hands. 

We  expect  to  leave  to-day  for  Pisa — thence  to  Flor- 
ence and  Venice,  and  then  Switzerland.  Victor  Emanuel 
is  doing  large  things  for  Italy,  and  if  he  is  spared  ten 
years  and  is  wise,  the  Pop3  and  his  whole  system  of 
oppression,  presumption,  deception,  and  persecution  will 
be  mortally  wounded.  God  bless  Victor  Emanuel  and 
the  cause  of  religious  and  political  freedom  in  poor 
ignorant,  superstitious  Italy!  The  Pope's  soldiers  guard 
him  at  every  point.  We  were  challenged  at  three  or 
four  doors  as  we  carried  our  letter  of  introduction  from 
our  Consul.  A  guard  of  eight  or  ten  Swiss,  in  gay 
uniform  of  yellow,  black  and  blue,  stand  outside  the 
room  where  the  Pope  is.  Tiiey  present  arms  (lances) 
whenever  a  Cardinal  or  Bishop  passes.  The  Pope's 
body  servants  are  all  dressed  in  rich,  scarlet  brocade — 
silk  pants,  stockings,  and  coats — with  white  cravats  and 
buckled   shoes.      I    yesterday  asked   a   guide    (in   fun) 


I    '•( 


I 


■■** 


VISIT  TO  EUROPE. 


223 


where  the  Pope  preached  f  He  looked  at  me  as  though 
he  would  annihilate  me,  and  said,  he  never  preaches — 
"He  is  only  seen  in  public  service  two  or  three  times  a 
year  ! "  We  are  all  pretty  well,  but  shall  be  glad  to  get 
out  of  hot,  dirty  and,/?ea-cursed  Italy.  Poor  Mamma  has 
flea-bites  from  her  sore  toe  to  her  neck.  I  am  pretty 
well  peppered — but  as  1  don't  scratch  they  soon  heal 
up.  Good-bye,  you  dear,  dear  boy.  I  feel  more  than 
ever  how  much  I  love  you,  and  how  deep,  and  constant 
is  my  interest  in  you.  May  God  bless  and  keep  you. 
Mamma  sends  love.  Your  dear  Papa. 


Sorrento,  Italy,  July,  1871. 

Dear  Willie  :  Here  we  are  at  a  little  village  right 
across  the  bay  from  Naples.  You  must  look  the  place 
out  on  the  map.  In  sight  is  that  great  volcano,  Mt. 
Vesuvius,  and  last  night  before  going  to  bed  I  went  out 
and  looked  at  it.  The  evening  was  clear  and  beautiful, 
and  the  stars  were  looking  out  from  the  blue  sky  as 
thouo-h  they  did  not  care  how  much  old  Vesuvius  fired 
up — they  were  safe.  The  red  hot  lava,  like  a  little 
mountain  stream,  was  pouring  down  from  the  barren, 
ugly  crater — like  a  mad  giant  with  red  hot  melted  iron 
runnirio-  out  of  one  corner  of  his  mouth.  To-morrow 
we  may  try  to  get  up  to  Vesuvius  and  see  it,  but  the 
ashes  are  so  deep  all  over  the  sides  of  the  mountain  that 
it  is  pretty  hot,  hard  work  to  climb  up  during  these 
warm  days.  Mamma  says  she  will  not  attempt  it.  When 
the  travelers  get  up  to  a  place  called  "  the  hermitage," 
they  get  off  their  donkeys  and  have  to  climb.  But 
there  are  always  men  who  will  carry  you  up.  But  it 
costs  twenty-five  francs,  or  five  dollars,  and  I  hardly  feel 
like  giving  that  to  be  carried  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 


or  so. 


224 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


VISIT  TO    EUROPE. 


225 


The  great  excitement  with  us  all  now  is,  that  we  all 
have  lots  of — fleas.  First  one  bites  mamma  on  the  arm; 
then  on  her  foot;  then  behind  her  ear,  then  on  her  back 
and  limbs,  and  I  laugh  to  see  her  scratching  first  one 
place  and  then  another;  and  while  I  laugh  at  her,  six  of 
them  bite  me  all  at  once. 

Sorrento  is  beautifully  situated  on  the  Bay  of  Naples, 
and  we  found  it  as  cool  as  anywhere  on  the  sea  shore 
near  Boston  in  July.  *  *  *  i  hope  you  are  a  noble, 
good  boy — not  only  kind  and  obedient  to  dear  Grandma, 
but  gentle  toward  all  the  boys,  returning  good  for  evil, 
not  being  selfish,  always  trying  to  be  like  Jesus  who  loved 
even  His  enemies.  Try  and  love  Him  with  all  your 
heart,  then  what  a  joyful  thing  it  will  be  when  we  come 
to  die  and  are  called  up  to  Heaven! 

Your  dear  Papa. 

*  *  *  The  girls  and  boys  here  all  have  olive-colored 
skin  and  jet  black  hair  and  eyes.  Very  few  have  shoes 
or  stockings  ;  in  fact  most  of  the  men  and  women  are 
bare-footed.  If  a  boy  gets  tired  and  sleepy,  instead  of 
going  home,  he  lies  down  on  the  pavement  or  in  the  dirt 
and  has  a  royal  good  time.  It  makes  a  body's  heart 
ache  to  see  how  these  poor  children  are  growing  up  in 
ignorance  and  misery.  And  yet  they  seem  quite  cheer- 
ful and  happy.  The  fact  is,  our  land  is  a  favored  one 
indeed,  our  children  are  highly  favored,  and  it  is  a  matter 
for  which  all  of  us  should  be  grateful  to  God.  Much 
more  will  be  expected  of  us,  than  of  these  unfortunate 
people. 

The  donkeys  are  an  institution  every  where,  but  the 
tiniest  little  fellows  are  those  we  saw  in  Naples.  They 
are  not  much  bigger  than  dogs.  You  will  sometimes 
see  quite  a  big  bunch  of  vegetables  moving  along  the 
streets,  and  upon  examining  it  carefully  you  will  find  the 


tail  of  a  donkey  hanging  down  behind.  They  use  the 
tail  to  steer  by.  When  the  driver  wants  the  donkey  to 
go  to  the  right,  he  pulls  the  animal  by  its  tail  over  toward 
the  left,  and  round  swings  the  donkey  and  his  load. 
I  often  wish  I  could  bring  one  of  them  home.  Some 
are  really  beautiful  in  their  homeliness.  Their  owners 
frequently  adorn  their  heads  with  ribbons  and  flowers 
and  little  looking-glasses.  In  Naples  we  saw  milkmen 
serving  milk,  and  how  do  you  think  it  was  done  ?  Why 
they  use  goats  instead  of  cows,  and  then  instead  of 
milking  them  at  home  and  sending  the  milk  to  the  cus- 
tomer they  drive  the  goats  to  the  doors  and  milk  what  is 
wanted.  It  looks  funny  to  see  a  big  fellow  driving  four 
nice-looking  goats  along,  and  funnier  still  to  see  how 
each  one  has  her  own  set  of  customers,  and  stops  at  just 
such  doors  ;  goes  up  two  or  three  pairs  of  stairs  in  tene- 
ment houses,  and  stands  waiting  on  the  landing  for  the 
owner  to  come  and  milk  her.  *  *  *  And  now,  good- 
bye, dear  child.  Be  good  children,  and  when  at  night 
you  kneel  to  pray,  you  must  ask  God  for  Jesus'  sake  to 
forgive  and  care  for  you,  and  take  good  care  of  us  as  we 
journey  so  far  away  from  home  and  those  we  love. 

Your  dear  loving  Papa. 


RETURN  TO  BOSTON. 


227 


i 


CHAPTER  XV. 

RETURN     TO     BOSTON. 

We  returned  to  Boston  in  October,  1871.  I  need 
not  say  how  cordially  we  were  greeted,  nor  how 
vigorously  and  earnestly  Mr.  Dickerson,  renovated 
in  health,  re-entered  on  his  pastoral  and  pulpit 
labors.  From  this  time  until  November,  1873,  he 
enjoyed  almost  uninterrupted  health,  and  gave  him- 
self to  every  form  of  good  work.  He  had  indeed 
his  occasional  infirmities,  as  allusions  in  the  follow- 
ing letters,  which  were  written  during  this  interval, 
will  show. 

From  a  letter  written  to  his  daughter  in  1873, 

from  Boston : 

My  dear  Daughter:  It  is  almost  supper-time;— the 
house  is  as  quiet  as  a  church.  I  am  alone  in  the  study, 
and  only  Mary's  voice  breaks  the  stillness  as  she  occa- 
sionally begins  one  of  her  peculiar  songs.  Spencer  has 
not  as  yet  come  home ;  Willie  is  out  distributing 
"prohibition"  ballots  with  my  name  on  for  "School 
Committee;"  Mamma  is  at  Music  Hall,  where  the  grand 
Fair  is  to  be  inaugurated  to-night.  "Rove"  has  just  at 
this  moment  returned,  heralding  I  suppose  the  homeward 
tendency  of  Will;  and  is  now  raising  his  "  let-me-in  " 
bark  at  the  back  door.     We  are  all  wagging  on  in  the 

826 


usual  way.  My  eye  has  troubled  me  a  good  deal,  and 
on  Sunday  my  sermons  were  thought  out  rather  than 
planned  out  with  pen.  I  can  scarcely  read  by  gas- 
light, and  I  "  see  double "  when  I  do  —  which  is  not 
the  thing  for  a  prohibition  candidate  for  School  Com- 


SOUTH    BAPTIST   CHURCH, 


BOSTON,    MASS. 


* 


mittee.  *  *  *  £  send  you  one  of  the  tickets 
which  the  prohibition  party  has  issued,  and  which 
will  be  voted  to-morrow.  Our  ward  polls  about  500  or 
600  votes,  and  of  these  I  am  pretty  sure  to  get  about 
90  or  100.  So  all  I  need  now  is  about  510  votes  to  elect 
me.     Let  our  relations  all  know  that  I  am  thus  honored 


228 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RETURN  TO  BOSTON. 


229 


and  tell  them  of  the  brilliant  prospects  ahead.  We 
think  of  having  a  balcony  built  out  over  the  front  door, 
so  that  I  can  receive  delegations,  serenades,  etc.  Tell 
our  relatives  our  plans.  Good-bye,  you  dear  child. 
Do  not  forget  us,  and  do  not  forget  the  blessed  Hand 
that  leads  and  guides  and  blesses  us — or  we  go  unblest. 
Give  love  to  Uncle  Sam,  Aunty  Grace,  and  all  the  little 
folks,  from  us  all.  I  dare  say  you  will  have  lots  of  fun 
with  Carrie,  for  she  is  a  darling  little  toad. 

AiFectionately,  your  dear  father, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

A  few  weeks  later  to  the  same : 

I  am  a  good  deal  better  of  my  rheumatism,  but  have 
a  terribly  painful  boil,  brought  out  by  using  so  many 
compresses,  etc.,  on  my  back.  I  preached  Sabbath 
morning  and  led  a  large  and  good  prayer-meeting  in  the 
evening.  Some  arose  for  prayers,  and  several  are 
awaiting  baptism. 

TO    HIS    WIFE. 

New  York,  April  10,  1873. 

I  have  just  read  your  last  dear  letter,  and  will 
take  the  present  time  to  answer  it,  though  it  may 
render  the  note  a  brief  one.  I  have  just  left  Dr. 
Fulton,  who  gives  me  the  last  intelligence  of  home  and 
the  dear  ones  that  make  it  the  spot  of  all  others 
the  dearest  on  earth.  1  do  not  wonder  that  men  and 
women  make  short  cuts  to  "  the  dogs  " — when  they  have 
no  home,  or  when  home  is  not  home.  I  think  no  man  is 
beyond  reach  who  still  feels  the  influence  of  some  home 
power.  *  *  *  As  you  said  nothing  of  the  sick  ones 
in  the  church,  \  trust  they  are  all  getting  along.  Hanson 
Place  Church  would  like  to  have  Fulton  come  on  and 


start  a  sort  of  Tremont  Temple  affair  in  Brooklyn.  He 
seems  somewhat  inclined  to  come.  They  say  that  Lor- 
imer  will  come  here  too.  Several  have  been  talking  to 
me  about  changing,  with  a  better  salary,  etc.  But  unless 
my  health  should  demand  it  I  do  not  feel  at  all  disposed 
to  leave  my  present  field  or  church.  When  I  look  back 
I  can  not  praise  gratefully  enough  that  surprising  grace 
and  care  of  the  blessed  Saviour  in  leading  such  a  poor, 
wicked,  and  homeless  orphan  by  a  way  so  mysterious 
to  honors  and  success  so  undeserved  and — by  every  body 

so  unexpected.     There    is   no  church  so  small   or  so 

unimportant  that  I  should  not  have  felt  — twenty-five 
years  ago — to  be  a  splendid  field,  and  a  gratification  to 
my  highest  ambition.  If  I  can  only  with  true  simplicity 
of  heart  and  true  devotion  to  Christ  keep  serving  Him 
where  He  wants  me  to  be,  it  will  be  a  great  thing  for  me 
when  life's  confines  shall  have  been  reached,  and  life's 
work  done. 

I  am  glad  cousin  Lulu  is  with  you.  Don't  work  that 
sewing  machine  again  until  1  get  home.  When  that 
back  breaks  T  want  to  be  around  to  save  the  various, 
precious  fragments.  T^ke  it  easy.  I  would  much 
rather  pay  a  sewing  girl,  and  it  would  be  to  your  com- 
fort and  economy  in  every  respect.  Kiss  the  children 
for  me.  Remember  me  to  "  Rove  "  and  tell  him  to  see 
to  things  a  little.  God  bless  you.  I  send  you  a  little 
flower. 

In  November,  1873,  Mr.  Dickerson  took  a  severe 
cold,  and  was  prostrated  by  a  painful  rheumatic 
fever,  which  confined  him  for  several  weeks  to  the 
house.  He  was  soon,  however,  out  again  and  labor- 
ing beyond  his  strength.  Meetings  were  being  held, 
many  were   inquiring  after   the  way  of  salvation; 


,1 
'I* 


230 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


■M 


and  Mr.  Dickerson,  with  but  partially  recovered 
strength,  and  feeling  some  recurring  twinges  of  his 
former  trouble,  yet  could  not  but  yield  himself  with 
all  his  powers  to  the  exigency.  By  day  he  visited 
amidst  snow  and  mud  those  who  needed  counsel  and 
encouragement,  and  was  out  nearly  every  evening 
till  a  late  hour  in  the  public  meetings.  He  was 
remonstrated  with  by  his  brethren,  who  begged  him 
to  remain  at  home  on  the  stormy  nights — but  in 
vain.  His  heart  was  in  the  meetings,  and  he  would 
drag  thither  his  body  until  his  strength  was  well 
nigh  spent. 

In  February  our  little  Gracie  was  born,  and  as 
soon  as  I  was  able  to  go  out,  I  accompanied  him  to 
the  meetings,  often  when  I  felt  scarcely  strength  to 
do  so,  for  the  purpose  of  forcing  him  away  from  the 
church  in  which  he  would  otherwise  stay  talking 
with  the  anxious  and  inquiring  too  late  into  the  night. 
His  throat  too  troubled  him  and  it  hurt  him  to  sing. 
But  the  singing  dragged  if  he  did  not  lead  it,  and 
the  temptation  to  do  so  was  too  strong  for  him  to 
resist.  He  would  sometimes  promise  me,  when  start- 
ing for  the  service  that,  this  time,  for  his  throat's 
sake  he  would  refrain ;  but  when  on  his  return 
I  said  to  him,  ''  I  suppose  you  kept  your  promise," 
he  would  reply,  ''I  sang  every  time  and  I  couldn't 
help  it." 

But  this  will-power  at  length  failed  him.  One 
stormy  afternoon  he  had  been  out  until  six  o'clock 
making  visits,  and  came  in  looking  pale  and  haggard. 
He  ate  his  supper,  and  then  went  up  stairs  and 
threw  himself  on  the  bed,  saying,  "  I  will  rest  a  few 


RETURN  TO   BOSTON. 


231 


minutes  before  going  to  meeting."  He  looked  so 
sick  that  I  begged  him  not  to  go,  but  yield  the  care 
of  the  meeting  to  olhers.  He  at  first  insisted  on 
going  to  look  after  the  converts  and  inquirers,  but 
at  last  yielded  to  my  importunities,  and  as  I  pro- 
posed to  write  a  note  to  one  of  the  Deacons  he  said, 
"  Well,  send  him  word ;  I  suppose  I  ought  to  stay." 
As  he  undressed  and  got  into  bed  he  remarked, 
"Yes,  darling,  you  were  right.  lam  sick,  and  ought 
not  to  have  been  out  this  afternoon."  The  next 
morning  he  was  in  a  high  fever,  which  was  followed 
by  a  second  attack  of  rheumatism.  He  did  not  leave 
the  house  for  seven  weeks,  or  enter  his  pulpit  again 
for  three  months.  His  people  were  all  kindness  and 
attention,  manifesting  the  tenderest  sympathy  over 
his  illness,  and  assuring  him  by  formal  committees 
that  they  would  freely  give  him  six  months  for 
recovery,  and  relieve  him  from  every  need  of  anxiety 
about  the  church. 

As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  go  out  he  went  to  New 
York,  and  spent  a  few  weeks.  I  quote  from  a  few 
letters  written  during  this  visit. 

Staten  Island,  May,  1874. 
My  dear  Emma  :  You  are  getting  ahead  of  me  in  the 
matter  of  letters,  and  I  shall  have  to  keep  at  it,  or  fall 
to  the  rear.  It  has  been  a  great  satisfaction  to  hear 
so  often  and  have  such  favorable  tidings  from  home.  1 
do  feel  grateful  to  God  for  all  the  past,  and  for  the 
auspicious  outlook  of  our  home  affairs.  More  and  more 
I  am  convinced  that  we  are  favored  far  beyond  the 
average  of  families.  My  home  is  happier,  my  dear  darling 
wife  is  sweeter,  and  my  children  are  better,  and  better 


1! 

'  I 
It 


232 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RETURN  TO  BOSTON. 


233 


t 


behaved,  than  any  I  find  in  my  travels.  And  I  very 
freely  acknowledge  how  much  we  owe  to  the  loving 
efficiency  of  "dear  Mamma."  Although  I  am  getting 
along  very  comfortably,  1  shall  indeed  be  glad  when  I 
can  properly  and  safely  turn  my  footsteps  toward  home. 
*  *  *  I  am  looking  forward  to  home  and  to  Campton 
with  almost  childish  lonjrinefs! 

From  another  written  the  same  week  from  Dr. 
Fulton's  in  Brooklyn,  we  quote  a  few  sentences  : 
"  The  great  Jubilee  at  Hanson  Place  came  off  last 
night,  and  was  indeed  a  perfect  success.  It  showed 
that  a  man  or  a  church  can  afford  to  be  talked  acrainst 
and  defamed — when  standing  for  the  truth.  The 
solid  men  in  the  ministry  of  our  church,  as  well  as 
some  of  our  more  prominent  laymen  were  on  the  plat- 
form to  endorse  brother  Fulton  as  one  whom  we  hon- 
ored for  his  fearless  and  outspoken  defense  of  Baptist 
principles.  *  *  *  j  ^y^g  fairly  obliged  to  make  a 
short  speech  about  half-past  ten  o'clock.  I  got  to 
bed  about  half-past  eleven  o'clock,  but  did  not  sleep 
until  daylight.  Still  I  feel  pretty  well,  and  as  the 
weather  was  rainy  or  cloudy  yesterday,  I  am  grate- 
ful that  I  am  so  well  this  morning.  If  I  can  only 
get  back  a  strong  voice  once  more — and  I  am  quite 
hopeful — I  think  I  am  good  for  considerable  service 
yet,  but  perhaps  not  in  rigorous  New  England. 
Several  friends  have  been  talking  to  me  about 
churches  in  which  they  are  interested,  and  Mr.  Good- 
man, of  the  Chicago  Standard^  wants  to  talk  with 
me  about  an  interest  with  him. 

"  But,  it  may  be,  God  has  a  work  for  me  to  do 
right  where  He  has  placed  me,  and  it  is  far  the  wiser 


way  to  await  His  unfolded  will.  I  am  ready  to  do 
it  —  that  will  be  the  happiest  as  well  as  the  most 
profitable  path  which  is  marked  out  by  Him. 

'^  Next  week  I  shall  spend  in  a  more  business-like 
way  and  see  a  number  of  friends,  then  get  ready  to 
go  home,  the  best  and  the  happiest  part  of  the  plan. 
*  *  *  I  am  glad  all  things  are  passing  pleasantly 
there.  Let  us  be  grateful!  Give  love  to  all.  My 
home  is  more  and  more  to  me  every  time  I  go 
away.  But  Dr.  Fulton  is  coming  to  take  me  out 
driving,  so  good-bye." 

New  York,  May  29,  1874. 

My  dear  Wife  :  I  spent  Wednesday  night  and  all 
Thursday  at  Staten  Island,  brother  Sam,  and  Grace  and 
little  Carrie  going  along.  We  had  a  very  pleasant  time, 
and  I  am  expecting  to  spend  two  or  three  days  with 
them  next  week.     The  place  is  in  its  most  beautiful  and 

fragrant  spring  attire.     's  baby  is  simply  a  bouncer 

— nine  months  old,  and  weighs  twenty-three  or  twenty- 
four  pounds.  Its  name  is  Harriet,  but  it  ought  to  called 
Harry,  for  it  looks  like  a  boy,  and  I  keep  saying  "  he  " 
and  "him"  all  the  time.  Mary  looks  tired  out,  and 
I  thought  if  she  could  have  a  rest  from  the  continual 
din  and  worry  of  her  nursery  work,  it  would  be  a  coveted 
blessing.  These  devoted  mothers  — dear  souls,  have 
their  hands  full.  I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  letter 
when  I  returned  from  Staten  Island;  in  fact,  I  was  think- 
ing about  it  all  that  day.  It  is  good  to  hear  from  the 
dear  ones  at  home,  and  to  think  of  them  as  so  full  of 
goodness  and  love,  you  long  to  clasp  them  in  your  arms. 
What  a  poor  world  this  would  be  were  it  not  for  love, 
and  the  hearts  and  homes  which  it  irradiates  and  makes 
joyous. 

10* 


234 


JAMES   S.  DICKERSON. 


I  am  gaining  in  flesh  and  in  strength.  My  appetite  is 
fair,  and  I  am  slowly  getting  back  to  my  old  average. 
My  throat  is  less  improved,  but  I  think,  better.  *  *  * 
Give  love  to  all  and  kisses  freely,  beginning  with  little 
Grace,  and  keeping  a  beautiful  selection  for  your  dear 
self  from  a  loving  and  appreciative  husband.      *      *      * 


After  spending  a  Sabbath  at  the  same  place  he 
wrote  again  Monday  morning  :  "It  rained  hard  all 
night,  but  it  is  bright  and  clear  to-day;  still,  fearing 
the  dampness  I  stay  in-doors.  Leonard  and  Mary 
went  to  church  in  the  morning,  but  I  was  at  home 
all  day.  I  read,  and  walked,  and  thought  of  you. 
A  spring  Sabbath  in  the  country  is  a  very  enjoyable 
and  profitable  season.  I  could  not  help  thinking 
of  my  church  and  people,  and  longed  for  the  time 
when  I  could  preach  again,  and  see  the  work  of  the 
Lord  prosperously  advancing.  It  seems  a  terribly 
long  time  since  I  left  home ;  I  can  hardly  realize 
that  it  is  less  than  two  weeks.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
turn  my  footsteps  homeward. 

"  Tiiis  is  the  first  of  June  !  The  Summer  is  here, 
and  before  we  fully  realize  it,  it  will  be  gone.  I  am 
hoping  for  much  improvement  in  my  general  health 
from  our  quiet  stay  in  Campton.  I  think  m}''  visit 
here  is  as  good  for  me  as  anything  could  be.  They 
are  all  very  kind  and  allow  me  to  do  just  as  I  please. 
*  *  *  About  the  swimming,  tell  Will  he  had 
better  wait  until  Spencer  or  Ubert  or  some  older 
person  can  go  with  him.  When  I  return  I  will  give 
him  chances  enough.  I  think  I  am  a  model  husband 
in  the  way  of  letter-writing."     *     *    * 


RETURN  TO   BOSTON. 


235 


Another,  written  a  few  days  later,  still  shows  his 
hopeful  spirit,  and  his  longing  to  be  at  work  again, 
although  he  was  utterly  unfitted  for  it.  He  writes : 
"  The  rain  to-day  disarranges  all  my  plans — but  it's 
all  right.  If  I  can  not  get  to  Dr.  Fulton's  to-night, 
I  shall  be  on  the  safe  side,  and  will  go  when  it  clears. 
I  feel  quite  like  myself  again — all  ^Dut  this  little 
troublesome  bronchial  hack.  I  think  Dr.  Thaver  or 
Dr.  Cullis  could  relieve  that,  now  that  I  am  stroncrer. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  announce  next  Sunday 
that  I  expect  to  be  present  the  following  Sabbath, 
and  perhaps  preach  a  part  of  the  day.  I  can  walk 
almost  as  well  as  ever.  I  sleep  Aiirly;  but  I  must 
take  things  very  easy  for  some  time  to  come.  Ilest^ 
however,  I  am  quite  confident  will  brincr  me  all  riiiht 
in  time,  for  I  think  there  is  really  no  settled  disease 
about  me.  The  c^ood  Lord  will  brinor  it  all  risrht  I 
am  sure.  You  can  not  long  to  have  me  back  any 
more  intensely  than  I  desire  to  get  back ;  and  but 
for  the  feeling  that  I  had  better  not,  I  should  liave 
turned  up  at  home  by  this  time." 

Soon  after  Mr.  Dickerson's  return  from  New  York, 
we  all  went  to  Campton,  N.  II.  We  spent  seven 
weeks  in  that  beautiful  region  delightfully  and 
healthfully.  Yet  during  all  this  time  he  was  slowly 
growing  worse.  The  rheumatism  seemed  to  have 
settled  in  his  left  knee,  which  was  very  much 
inflamed,  and  failed  to  grow  better  in  spite  of  all 
our  remedies.  Still,  amidst  the  thronging  guests  of 
the  house  there  was  none  livelier,  happier  or  more 
entertaining  than  my  husband.  He  was  at  all  times 
full  of  hope,  and  indulged  often  the  belief  that  he 


236 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


was  really  better  and  might  yet  anticipate  another 
good  year's  work  in  Boston.  The  Autumn,  however^ 
found  him  more  lame,  his  throat  more  troublesome, 
and  ''  this  little  bronchial  hack  "  mentioned  in  one 
of  his  letters,  becoming  painfully  noticeable.  In 
November  it  became  evident  to  him  that  he  must 
resign  his  place  and  for  a  w^hile  relinquish  preaching. 
His  knee  had  become  so  inflamed  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  that  he  could  walk  the  sliort  distance  from 
his  house  to  his  church,  and  although  the  carriages 
of  his  friends  were  at  his  disposal  for  this  purpose 
and  for  pastoral  visiting,  yet  of  course  it  was  out  of 
the  question  to  carry  forward  in  this  way  the  pastoral 
care  of  a  large  church.  His  throat  too  was  so  weak 
that  he  was  often  obliged  to  procure  a  supply  for  the 
pulpit,  and  alike  to  his  own  sorrow  and  that  of  a 
people  devotedly  attached  to  him,  it  became  manifest 
that  his  labors  with  them  must  cease.  The  struggle 
within  his  own  heart  of  surrendering  his  cherished 
life-work,  can  be  known  only  by  those  who  have 
had  the  like  experience. 

In  this  emergency  the  providence  of  God  opened 
to  him  a  field  of  action,  the  next  in  interest  and 
importance  to  that  which  he  was  quitting,  and  all 
the  more  welcome,  as  it  was  precisely  that  in  which 
he  had  already  had  many  years  of  happy  experience. 
In  New  York  he  had  been  for  four  years  associated 
with  Dr.  M.  B.  Anderson  in  the  management  of  the 
New  York  Recorder ;  in  Philadelphia  he  had  had  for 
years  the  care  of  the  Chronicle^  and  thus  large  portions 
of  his  mature  life  had  been  given  to  religious  jour- 
nalism.    A  similar  opening  now  invited  his  footsteps 


RETURN  TO   BOSTON. 


237 


to  the  great  and  rising  metropolis  of  the  West.  Mr. 
Goodman,  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  Standard^ 
in  Chicago,  had  corresponded  with  Mr.  Dickerson  in 
regard  to  purchasing  half  the  paper  which  his  partner, 
Mr.  Leroy  Church,  wished  to  sell.  Mr.  Dickerson 
had,  however,  not  seriously  entertained  the  question, 
hoping  that  even  if  unable  to  bear  the  rigors  of  a 
New  England  climate,  he  might  continue  the  work 
if  he  lived  in  a  more  genial  region.  He  liad  written, 
therefore,  to  Mr.  Goodman  to  "count  him  out"  and 
seek  another  purchaser.  The  latter,  however,  de- 
clined to  follow  liis  advice,  but  cherished  the  hope 
of  yet  having  him  as  his  associate  in  Chicago.  And 
just  about  this  time,  early  in  November,  when  Mr. 
Dickerson  was  coming  to  the  slow  and  reluctant 
conclusion  that  he  must  for  a  time  be  utterly  debarred 
from  pastoral  labor,  he  received  another  pressing 
letter  on  the  subject  from  Mr.  Goodman.  The  result 
was  that,  late  in  November  Mr.  Dickerson  went  out 
to  Chicago,  to  look  over  the  i)roperty  and  determine 
his  course  of  duty.  It  began  to  look  like  a  marked 
and  gracious  Providence  that  was  opening  to  him  a 
path  of  Christian  usefulness  with  hand  and  brain 
while  resting  his  throat  and  limb.  He  felt,  too, 
naturally  drawn  to  a  sphere  of  labor  with  which 
were  linked  so  many  delightful  associations  of  the 
past.     From  Chicago  he  wrote  the  following  letter 

to  his  son : 

Chicago,  Dec.  4,  1874. 

My  dear  Willie  :  I  was  quite  surprised  to  hear  of 
the  arrival  of  the  "  measles."  I  knew  them  well  some 
years  ago.     It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  them  early.     But 


238 


JAMES   S.  DTCKERSON. 


you  must  be  very  careful  not  to  expose  yourself  for 
some  time  after  you  feel  well.  The  disease  weakens 
for  awhile  all  our  internal  organism— the  mucus  mem- 
brane—the ceretras  organs— the  oesophagus,  the  alimen- 
tary canal— and  the  entire  nervitine  salitudes,  duode- 
nums,  etc.,  are  all  more  or  less  involved,  and  you  see  how 
it  is.  (Willie  was  studying  physiology  at  this  time,  and 
talked  a  great  deal  about  the  functions  of  various  parts 
of  the  body,  etc.)  One  chill  within  a  week  after  you  are 
pretty  well,  miglit  give  you  a  permanent  weakness.  So 
you  must  be  patient  and  careful. 

I  have  just  this  moment  had  a  telegram   from  dear 
Mamma  that  you  are  getting  on  nicely.    Thank  the  dear 
Saviour  for  your  improvement.     I  hope  He  will  care  for 
you,  and  that  you  will  love  Him.    He  is  my  only  reliance. 
When   trouble,  sickness,  age,  death    come  on,    then    I 
think  of    my   hope  in  Him.     It  never  fails.     Do  yield 
yourself— your  love— your  will  to  Jesus.     That  is  all ; 
that  is  being  a  Christian.     Then  we  never  can  be  sep- 
arated even  by  death  ;  **  we  still  are  joined  in  heart,  and 
hope  to  meet  again."     What  a  blessed  thing  it  would 
be  for  Lulu  and  you  and  Cliff  and  Ed.  to  become  Chris- 
tians!    I    think  if    you    led   the    way    it   might   be    so! 
Perhaps  by  your  not  leading,    they  may  never  get  to 
Heaven,  even  if  you  should  yet  reach  that  happy  place. 
Christians  are  happy ;  christians  are  in  the  line  of  duty ; 
christians   are    safe.      May  God    incline   your  heart    to 
decide  now. 

^  I  am  working  away  to  see  what  will  come  of  this 
Standard  matter.  It  looks  as  though  we  might  yet  YiVQ 
in  Chicago,  and  I  think  we  might  be  very  happy  out 
here.  Loring  Cheney  is  in  the  Sophomore  class  of  the 
University,  here.      ♦     *      *      Hoping  you  are   getting 


RETURN  TO  BOSTON. 


239 


toward  convalescence,  and  will  be  careful,  and  with 
much  love  to  dear  Mamma,  Spencer,  Lulu  and  Gracie, 
^  *°^»  Affectionately  your  father, 

James  S.  Dickeeson. 

The  result  of  this  and  a  subsequent  visit  was  the 
purchase  of  a  half  interest  in  the  Standard  on  the 
first  of  January,  1875,  and  our  removal  to  Chicago 
in  the  middle  of  the  February  following. 

The  leaving  Boston    was  made  by  some  special 
circumstances  peculiarly  trying.  Mr.  Dickerson  could 
rejoice,  indeed,  that  he  was  leaving  his  people  in  the 
midst  of  a  refreshing  revival,  yet  it  was  a  heavy 
trial  that  he  could  attend  few  of  their  meetings, 
could  lead  none  of  the  converts  down  into  the  bap- 
tismal  waters,  and  take  scarcely  any  share  in  the 
public  labors  in  which  his  soul  delighted.    As  quietly 
and  patiently  as  might  be  he  had  to  nurse  his  infir- 
mities at  home,  and  rejoice  that  the  gracious  Master 
could  carry  on  the  work  without  him.    He  did  rejoice 
and  kept  his  spirit,  in  helpless  but  loving  confidence. 
Finally,  one  eflfort  must  be  made.     The  farewell— 
the  "  word  which  must  be  and  hath  been  "  must  be 
uttered.     On  a  Sabbath  on  which  Rev.  Dr.  Gardner 
preached  for  him,  Mr.  Dickerson  was  taken  to  the 
church,    walked    tremblingly    to    the    pulpit,    and 
leaning  over   it,  said  to  his  people  a  few  words  of 
farewell.     He  was  too  weak  to  trust  himself  to  any 
utterance  of  the  tender  emotions,  to  any  dwellincr 
upon  the  tender  memories  which  the  occasion  inspired 
and  which  came  crowding  upon  his  heart.     He  could 
scarcely    venture     beyond    the    commonplaces  of 


238 


JAMES  8.  DICKERSON. 


you  must  be  very  careful  not  to  expose  yourself  for 
some  time  after  you  feel  well.  The  disease  weakens 
for  awhile  all  our  internal  organism — the  mucus  mem- 
brane— the  ceretras  organs — the  oesophagus,  the  alimen- 
tary canal — and  the  entire  nervitine  salitudes,  duode- 
nums,  etc.,  are  all  more  or  less  involved,  and  you  see  how 
it  is.  (Willie  was  studying  physiology  at  this  time,  and 
talked  a  great  deal  about  the  functions  of  various  parts 
of  the  body,  etc.)  One  chill  within  a  week  after  you  are 
pretty  well,  might  give  you  a  permanent  weakness.  So 
you  must  be  patient  and  careful. 

I  have  just  this  moment  had  a  telegram  from  dear 
Mamma  that  you  are  getting  on  nicely.  Thank  the  dear 
Saviour  for  your  improvement.  I  hope  He  will  care  for 
you,  and  that  you  will  lorn  Him.  He  is  my  only  reliance. 
When  trouble,  sickness,  age,  death  come  on,  then  I 
think  of  my  hope  in  Him.  It  never  fails.  Do  yield 
yourself — your  love — your  will  to  Jesus.  That  is  all ; 
that  is  being  a  Christian.  Then  we  never  can  be  sep- 
arated even  by  death  ;  "  we  still  are  joined  in  heart,  and 
hope  to  meet  again."  What  a  blessed  thing  it  would 
be  for  Lulu  and  you  and  Cliif  and  Ed.  to  become  Chris- 
tians! I  think  if  you  led  the  way  it  might  be  so! 
Perhaps  by  your  not  leading,  they  may  never  get  to 
Heaven,  even  if  you  should  yet  reach  that  happy  place. 
Christians  are  happy  ;  christians  are  in  the  line  of  duty  ; 
christians  are  safe.  May  God  incline  your  heart  to 
decide  now. 

I  am  working  away  to  see  what  will  come  of  this 
Standard  matter.  It  looks  as  though  we  might  yet  live 
in  Chicago,  and  I  think  we  might  be  very  happy  out 
here.  Loring  Cheney  is  in  the  Sophomore  class  of  the 
University,  here.      *     *      *      Hoping  you  are   getting 


RETURN  TO   BOSTON". 


289 


toward  convalescence,  and  will  be  careful,  and  with 
much  love  to  dear  Mamma,  Spencer,  Lulu  and  Gracie, 
I  ^"i*  Aflfectionately  your  father, 

James  S.  Dickebson. 

The  result  of  this  and  a  subsequent  visit  was  the 
purchase  of  a  half  interest  in  the  Standard  on  the 
first  of  January,  1875,  and  our  removal  to  Chicago 
in  the  middle  of  the  February  following. 
^  The  leaving  Boston    was  made  by  some  special 
circumstances  peculiarly  trying.  Mr.  Dickerson  could 
rejoice,  indeed,  that  he  was  leaving  his  people  in  the 
midst  of  a  refreshing  revival,  yet  it  was  a  heavy 
trial  that  he   could  attend   few  of  their  meetings, 
could  lead  none  of  the  converts  down  into  the  bap- 
tismal waters,  and  take  scarcely  any  share  in  the 
public  labors  in  which  his  soul  delighted.    As  quietly 
and  patiently  as  might  be  he  had  to  nurse  his  infir- 
mities at  home,  and  rejoice  that  the  gracious  Master 
could  carry  on  the  work  without  him.    He  did  rejoice 
and  kept  his  spirit,  in  helpless  but  loving  confidence. 
Finally,  one  effort  must  be  made.     The  farewell— 
the  "  word  which  must  be  and  hath  been  "  must  be 
uttered.     On  a  Sabbath  on  which  Rev.  Dr.  Gardner 
preached  for  him,  Mr.  Dickerson  was  taken  to  the 
church,    walked    tremblingly    to    the    pulpit,    and 
leaning  over    it,  said  to  his  people  a  few  words  of 
farewell.     He  was  too  weak  to  trust  himself  to  any 
utterance  of  the  tender  emotions,  to  any  dwelling 
upon  the  tender  memories  which  the  occasion  inspired 
and  which  came  crowding  upon  his  heart.     He  could 
scarcely    venture     beyond     the    commonplaces   of 


*f  j 


240 


JA.MES   S.  DTCKERSON. 


I^'  ^ 


,  I 


pastoral  exhortation,  in  urging  them  to  keep  up  their 
prayer-meetings,  fill  their  places  on  the  Sabbath, 
even  when  their  leader  was  gone,  and  work  on 
courageously  under  the  assurance  that  the  Lord 
would  in  due  time  supply  their  need.  He  thanked 
them  for  their  great  kindness  to  him,  spoke  for  a  few 
minutes  of  his  plans  and  hopes,  asked  a  continuance 
of  their  prayers  for  him  —  prayers,  ''not  sad  and 
despairing,  but  hopeful,"  and  with  tearful  smiles 
bade  them  good-bye.  There  was  no  dry  eye  in  the 
house.  The  congregation  understood  the  struggle 
which  was  masked  by  the  calm  cheerfulness  of  his 
manner,  and  if  they  did  not  "  fall  on  his  neck  and 
kiss  him,"  they  sorrowed  deeply  in  their  hearts  with 
the  thought  that  they  should  probably  hear  his  voice 
and  "  see  his  face  no  more."  And  their  apprehen- 
sions were  realized.  Soon  after  leaving  them  he  was 
a  hopeless  invalid,  and  in  about  a  year  had  become 
a  resident  of  the  better  but  unseen  land. 

Mr.  Dickerson  felt  that,  perhaps,  his  best  work  was 
done  in  Boston.  When  he  entered  upon  his  labors 
there,  in  the  spring  of  1870,  tlie  church  was  bur- 
dened with  a  debt  of  over  twenty-six  thousand 
dollars,  and  it  was  only  with  a  struggle  that  they 
could  pay  the  interest  on  this,  and  at  the  same  time 
meet  their  current  expenses.  The  Lord  blessed  his 
ministry  so  abundantly,  and  the  church  was  so  thor- 
oughly united  in  him,  that,  at  the  close  of  the  first 
year,  not  only  had  the  congregation  constantly 
increased,  but  by  the  accession  of  new  members  the 
church  was  strengthened,  both  spiritually  and  finan- 
cially ;  the  increased  expenses  were  easily  met,  and 


RETURN  TO  BOSTON. 


241 


something  was  done  toward  liquidating  the  debt. 
While  this  result  commanded  the  warmest  gratitude 
to  God  for  so  large  a  blessing,  the  many  tokens  of 
love,  on  the  part  of  his  people,  their  confidence,  sym- 
pathy, and  active  support,  the  numerous  and  cordial 
expressions  of  appreciation,  kindled  a  like  grateful 
feeling  toward  those  whom  he  served,  and  made  his 
pastorate  in  Boston  a  continual  joy. 

The  change  of  the  preaching  service  from  the 
afternoon  so  increased  the  attendance  that  Mr. 
Dickerson  was  soon  preaching  to  the  largest  Baptist 
congregation  in  Boston,  with  a  single  exception  — 
that  of  Tremont  Temple.  Few  were  aware  of  the 
sense  of  responsibility  which  weighed  upon  his  heart, 
as  he  tried  to  preach  Christ  to  these  audiences  of  a 
thousand  immortal  souls.  His  heart  was  fully  in  the 
work,  and  it  was  often  remarked  by  his  people,  as 
they  left  one  of  these  solemn  and  inspiring  services : 
"  It  seems  like  coming  from  a  heavenly  atmosphere 
down  to  an  earthly  one  again."  When,  in  our  con- 
versation, as  we  walked  homeward,  I  spoke  in  praise 
of  the  sermon,  his  reply  would  be — and  I  now 
vividly  recall  the  look  and  the  expression  :  "  Did  I 
make  the  points  clear,  and  do  you  think  it  will  do 
good?"  He  preached,  "not  himself,  but  Christ 
Jesus  the  Lord."  He  sought,  not  praises,  but  souls. 
At  the  close  of  his  first  year,  nearly  seventy  had 
be,en  added  to  the  church,  and  at  almost  every  com- 
munion he  had  the  joyful  privilege  of  welcoming 
the  newly  baptized. 

From  the  time  of  his  return  from  Europe,  with 
vigor  renewed,  until  he  was  obliged  to  give  up  his 
11 


242 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


cherished  work,  in  1875,  the  membership  continued 
to  increase,  and  the  church  steadily  prospered.  The 
Sabbath-school,  with  its  corps  of  earnest,  intelligent 
teachers,  and  its  devoted  superintendents,  had  grown 
largely  in  numbers  and  in  influence.  The  prayer- 
meetings  were  invariably  a  feast  to  those  who 
attended  them  —  young  and  old  —  while  the  voices 
of  inquirers  and  young  converts  were  often  heard 
there.  The  ladies'  circles  and  sociables  were  quoted 
everywhere  as  models  of  their  kind ;  and  the  debt, 
a  large  one  for  such  a  church,  was  all  subscribed 
before  Mr.  Dickerson  left,  and  completely  extin- 
guished in  a  short  time  after  his  removal  to  Chicago. 
Meantime,  other  claims  were  not  forgotten.  The 
missionary  enterprises  of  the  denomination,  the  tem- 
perance cause,  every  form  of  public  interest,  with 
the  claims  of  Christian  benevolence,  commanded  his 
active  support  and  that  of  his  church.  Even  while 
the  process  of  paying  the  debt  went  forward,  the 
contributions  of  the  church  to  various  objects  were 
larger  in  amount  than  ever  before. 

Mr.  Dickerson  often  preached  in  the  pulpits  of  his 
Congregational  and  Methodist  brethren,  while  at  the 
social  reunions,  and  in  all  gatherings  of  Baptists,  no 
one  was  welcomed  more  cordially  or  heard  more 
gladly  than  he.  I  am  confident  that  all  hearts 
responded  to  the  words  of  Dr.  Lorimer,  at  the 
memorial  services  held  in  the  church  at  South  Bos- 
ton, after  his  death,  when  he  said :  "  What  Dr. 
Dickerson  was  to  you,  your  sorrow  witnesses ;  what 
he  was  to  the  denomination  in  this  vicinity,  can 
never  be  truly  estimated.*' 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


CHICAGO. 


Our  removal  to  Chicago  was  in  February,  1875. 
The   city   had    sprung   up    Phcenix-like    from   the 
ashes  of  its    great   conflagration,  and  was  shining 
in   its  superb    beauty,    an   exemplification    beyond 
any   other   American    city,    of    the    energetic   and 
indomitable  character  of  American  enterprise.     The 
Standard    which,   like    every    other    interest,    had 
seemed  temporarily  overwhelmed  by  the  great  ocean 
of  flame  that  had  swept  over  the  city,  had  partially 
recovered,  and  was  starting  under  favorable  auspices 
on  its  new  course.     Mr.  Dickerson's  reception  here 
was   most   cordial   and   fraternal.      Congratulatory 
letters  came  to  him  from  all  quarters,  and  the  Bap- 
tists of  the  Northwest,  friends  of  the  paper,  felt  new 
hope  and  encouragement  for  all  their  enterprises  in 
the    coming  of  one    so    widely   known   as   a   loyal 
Baptist,  an  efficient  and  wide-awake  editor,  and  an 
equally  earnest    and  judicious  supporter  of    every 
good  cause.     Mr.  Goodman,  his  partner,  gave  us,  a 
few  days  after  our  arrival,  a  most  delightful  reception 
at  the  Brevoort  House,    where  we   were   stoppino-. 
Nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  representative  Baptists 
were  present,  and  Mr.  Dickerson  received  his  public 
and  formal  introduction  to  the  friends  and  brethren 


848 


244 


JAMES  S.  DICKEKSON. 


with  whom  he  was  to  be  associated.  He  was  scarcely 
able  to  be  present,  and  many  remarked  how  ill  he 
looked.  Yet  he  spoke  with  animation,  and  returned 
their  greetings  with  all  his  accustomed  geniality. 
The  occasion,  however,  over,  as  we  retired  to  our 
apartments  he  dropped  exhausted  into  his  ohair,  say- 
ing ''  I  am  sick,  and  have  hardly  the  strength  and  life 
to  go  to  bed."  But  the  next  morning  lie  was  up, 
started  cheerfully  forth  for  his  work,  and  with 
buoyant  spirit  but  halting  step,  made  his  way  over 
the  icy  pavements  to  the  oflBce.  By  those  who  had 
been  familiar  with  the  rapid  and  eager  tread  of 
former  years  he  would  scarcely  be  recognized  in  his 
slow  and  careful  steps,  and  feeble  look.  For  about 
three  weeks  he  forced  his  way  to  the  office  through 
the  wind  and  sleet  and  rain  of  severe  March  weather. 
He  spoke  at  Social  Unions,  and  attended  various 
public  gatherings,  declaring  that  he  was  "  not  going 
to  act  sick  any  more,"  and  trusting  that  he  should 
soon  be  better. 

A  letter  written  to  his  sister  (Mrs.  Van  Dusen) 
at  this  time  will  show  his  condition  better  than  I  can 
describe  it. 

Chicago,  March  15,  1875. 

Dear  Grace:  All  the  family  are  at  church  save  Gracie 
and  myself.  A  bad  grip  of  the  rheumatism  on  my  well 
side  has  doubled  me  right  up,  and  I  am  crawling  around 
like  a  lobster.  1  get  so  discouraged  at  times  that  I  want 
to  get  away  from  everybody  and  just  bawl  for  an  hour. 
I  am  hoping  that  the  warm  weather  will  be  helpful  for  me 
every  way.  My  bad  knee  is  rather  better  I  think  — 
though  there  is  no  great  change.     For  a  few  days  my 


mjpii'iliiiii.niiiu 


CHICAGO. 


245 


bronchitis  has  been  worse,  and  I  have  been  threatened 
with  pneumonia.  I  coughed  badly  in  the  morning;  could 
not  lie  on  my  right  side  for  the  lung  was  too  sensitive; 
and  could  not  lie  long  on  my  left,  or  my  heart  would 
begin  to  thump.  I  was  away  from  the  office  from  Monday 
until  Friday.  But  I  am  better  of  all  this  —  it  probably 
came  from  a  cold  which  went  the  usual  way  with  me, 
beginning  with  slight  catarrhal  symptoms  and  then  work- 
ing down  to  my  bronchia.  As  I  think  of  my  feeble 
condition  for  the  past  months  I  can  only  look  -upon  my 
preservation  from  a  terrible  sickness  as  of  God's  special 
mercy.  I  only  fear  that  I  stood  at  my  post  as  a  preacher 
of  the  gospel  too  long.  If  I  did,  it  was  with  the  best  of 
motives,  and  if  in  this  life,  I  feel  its  disadvantages — in 
the  nex%  T  shall  have  the  reward.     So  it's  all  right. 

I  am  happy  about  it.  Should  it  be  necessary  for  me 
to  go  to  a  more  genial  clime,  it's  a  great  comfort  to  know 
that  Colorado,  "the  invalid's  Paradise,"  is  but  a  two 
days'  ride  from  here.  But  I  am  quite  hopeful  of  a  decided 
improvement.  I  am  doing  just  what  work  I  can  do 
easily — going  to  the  office  when  I  please,  staying  as  long 
as  I  feel  like  it.  I  can  do  easily  and  without  much 
mental  outlay  what  is  needed  on  the  Standard — i,  e., 
short,  spicy,  editorial  paragraphs — remarks  in  brief  about 
religious  and  secular  things,  etc.,  etc.  My  partner  is  as 
careful  to  have  me  save  myself  as  Emma  is,  frequently 
advising  me  to  remain  at  home  and  work  if  the  weather 
is  unfavorable.  So  the  dear  Lord  has  made  a  place  for 
me  wonderfulh'-  adapted  to  all  my  weaknesses,  and  yet 
utilizing  all  my  strength.     I  praise  Him  continually. 

Thus  far  our  business  matters  have  been  quite  encourag- 
ing. *  *  *  I  know  that  a  minister  of  the  Gospel, 
broken  in  the  service  at  my  age,  must  not  expect  much 
besides  a  bare  living — he  is  favored  if  he   gets  that. 


m 


246 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSOK 


CHICAGO. 


247 


hi 


II 


Ministers  in  their  prime  are  favored  indeed; — ministers 
used  up,  have  a  sad,  hard  life.  *  *  *  Emma,  dear 
soul,  has  her  hands  full,  takin^r  care  of  a  little  well  babv, 
and  a  big  sick  one.  Still  she  shows  no  sijrn  of  diviner 
up,  and  never  looked  better.  We  have  much  attention 
shown  us,  and  find  many  old  friends  to  greet  us.  Emma 
has  just  come  in  and  sends  love  to  you,  and  uncle  Sam, 
and  the  children,  in  which  1  cordially  join.  The  Lord 
bless  you  all.  Your  brother,  .James. 

I  scarcely  need  say  how  happy  were  Mr.  Dicker- 
son's  relations  with  his  new  associates.    His  business 
partner,  Mr.  Goodman,  speedily  won  from  him  that 
cordial  love  and  respect  which  his  excellent  Chris- 
tian character,  genial  manners,  and  great  business 
capacity  could  not  fail  to  command  from  the  entire 
Christian  public.    His  associate  editor,  was  Dr.  J.  A. 
Smith,  who  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  the 
editorial  conduct  of  the  paper,  and  by  his  uniformly 
sound    and  correct  judgment,  by  the  breadth   and 
justness  of  his  views,  and  the  blended  firmness  and 
moderation   with   which    he    maintained  them,   had 
brought  the  Standard  into  the  very  front  rank  of 
religious  journalism,  and   fairly  secured  to  himself 
the  title  of  ''the  Model  Editor."     Associated  with 
such   men,    so   thoroughly  congenial  in    spirit   and 
temper,   he   began   his   labors   under   the   happiest 
auspices  —  happiest,    except   as   darkened     by    the 
one    cloud  of   physical     infirmity    which    was    now 
sternly   gathering   over   his    prospects,   and   Avhich 
refused  to  be  dispelled  even  by  his  strong  will  and 
buoyant  hopefulness.    Equableness  of  spirit,  serenity 
of   temper,  hoping  trustfulness,  a  resolution  that 


rises  above  weakness  and  quails  at  no  obstacles,  may 
push  far  into  the  future  the  day  of  final  physical 
discomfiture.  But  it  will  ccmie  at  last.  Decay  is 
inwrought  into  our  nature ;  and  however  we  may 
postpone,  we  can  not  finally  avert  it.  Mr.  Dickerson 
became  at  last  obliged  to  confine  himself  to  the 
house  and  send  for  a  physician.  "  My  wife,"  said  he, 
"  thought  I  had  better  see  you.  Doctor.  But  there 
is  nothing  much  the  matter  with  me.  I  am  just  a  little 
worn  down  and  overworked,  but  I  shall  come  out  all 
right."  But  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  third  attack 
of  rheumatic  fever,  and  he  was  not  dressed  again  for 
nearly  a  month,  nor  indeed  until  the  night  in  which 
we  started  for  a  journey  of  seven  hundred  miles  to 
Hot  Springs,  Arkansas. 

Some  serious  obstacles  to  our  going  thither  were 
removed  by  the  interposition  of  generous  friends. 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Cheney  kindly  offered  to  take  two  of 
the  children  to  their  house  and  care  for  them  during 
our  absence  ;  while  my  sister,  Mrs.  Barton,  living  in 
the  city,  made  the  same  generous  offer  for  the  little 
one  year  old  baby  and  her  nurse.  Three  little  babies, 
one  after  another,  we  had  laid  away  forever,  and 
now  we  parted  in  sadness  from  the  elder  children, 
but  sorely  apprehensive  that  from  the  delicate  little 
nurseling  our  parting  was  final.  Mr.  Dickerson  was 
unable  to  stand,  and  at  every  change  had  to  be  lifted 
to  and  from  the  cars.  Sick  as  he  was,  yet  on  the 
railway,  with  the  aid  of  the  sleeping  cars,  he  was 
tolerably  comfortable.  The  railroad  route,  however, 
came  to  an  end,  and  the  last  thirty  miles  of  the 
journey  had  to  be  traversed  over  roads  whose  rough- 


248 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


CHICAGO. 


249 


|i     i 


<•■     li 


ness  and  wildness  could  scarcely  have  been  looked 
for  even  in  the  interior  of  Arkansas.    At  four  o'clock 
on  a  raw  cold  morning,  having  sought  in  vain  for 
any   palatable   food,    we   set   off  in   a   dilapidated, 
springless  hack,  and  jolting  over  rocks  and  trunks  of 
trees,  fording  streams,  plunging  through  ''  sloughs 
of  despond  "  and  despair,  over  a  road  of  which  not 
one    quarter  of  a  mile  was   smooth,  we    made    our 
comfortless  and  often  perilous  way  to  our  place  of 
destination.     To  Mr.  Dickerson   the  journey  was  a 
continuous  torture.     Using  his  luinds  as  springs  to 
keep  his  body  from  the  hard  unyielding  seat,  until 
his  wrists  seemed   ready  to  break,  and  yet  tossing 
violently  with  the  movements  of  tlie  huge  vehicle, 
he  rode  for  thirty  miles  in  an  agony  which  only  the 
utmost  heroism  could  endure.    No  wonder  that  when 
we  reached  the  huge  barn-like  building  which  bore 
the  mocking  title  of  the  Grand  Central  Hotel,  and 
he  was  lifted  from  the  wagon,  the  people  who  gath- 
ered round  supposed  that  he  had  come  there  just  to 
die.     Their  faces  and  their  manner  told  their  con- 
viction that  I  was  ministering  to  a  dying  husband. 

Still  life  was  strong  within  him,  and  from  an  ordeal 
that  might  have  seemed  to  threaten  even  a  stronger 
man,  he  rallied.  We  remained  there  two  months,  and 
he  in  every  way  grew  better.  He  could  walk  with 
crutches,  had  more  appetite,  rode  out  a  little,  and 
finally  returned  to  Chicago  considerably  encouraged, 
though  disappointed  as  to  the  thorough  curative 
efficacy  of  the  medicinal  waters.  To  some  friends 
who  bade  him  good-bye  as  he  started  for  the  Springs, 
he  had  said,  "- 1  shall  come  back  soon  and  skip  up 


the  stairs  three  steps  at  a  time."  He  shrunk  now 
from  meeting  them  when  with  difficulty  he  walked 
on  crutches.  In  truth  the  fountains  of  life  were 
sapped,  and  the  mineral  waters  could  not  resupply 
them.  They  could  mitigate  symptoms,  could  give 
some  of  the  outward  showings  of  health,  but  left 
the  cause  and  hidden  virus  of  his  disease  unreached. 

We  spent  the  following  Summer  in  Highland  Park, 
a  beautiful  suburban  town,  built  on  a  bluff,  seventy 
feet  above  the  lake.  The  place  was  delightful,  but 
the  Summer  was  a  sad  one  to  us  all.  Mr.  Dickerson's 
knee  grew  more  and  more  inflamed,  a* id  more  and 
more  painful  until  it  was  torture  to  be  moved.  He 
had  to  submit  to  some  severe  operations,  and  suffered 
so  excruciatingly  that  morphia  alone  could  give  him 
cessation  from  pain  or  rest  in  sleep. 

From  a  letter  written  from  that  place  to  his  uncle 
James  Stokes,  after  several  eminent  surgeons  had 
seen  him  and  deemed  it  probable  that,  in  order  to 
live,  he  must  suffer  the  amputation  of  that  limb,  we 
quote  some  sentences : 

Highland  Park,  Aug.  24,  1875. 
My  dear  Uncle:  This  is  the  first  day  since  I  received 
your  letter  that  I  have  been  able  to  write  ;  now  it  is 
under  many  difficulties,  as  I  am  bolstered  up  in  bed  with 
pillows  at  my  back,  my  knee  and  my  feet.  J  ache  in 
every  muscle  from  my  waist  downward.  Still  I  call 
myself  "quite  comfortable  " — whenever  I  am  not  thrilled 
through  and  through  with  tormenting  pains.  1  have 
suffered  somewhat  less  since  my  leg  was  lanced,  and 
discharged  so  much  blood  and  matter.  *  *  *  ^y 
doctors,  both  allopaths  and  homeopaths,  agree  that  the 
great  thing  to  be  done  is  to  increase  my  general  health. 


gaaBBBi 


250 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


CHICAGO. 


251 


They  say,  "  Improve  your  appetite,  be  out  in  the  ope?i 
air,  and  build  up  your  general  health."  This  is  rather 
cheap  advice  to  a  poor,  weak  soul  on  crutches,  who  can 
not  move  without  a  pang,  and  can  not  eat  or  sleep  with 
any  satisfaction.  In  regard  to  an  amputation — while  all 
have  told  me  that  it  was  possible  to  happen,  no  one  has 
said  that  it  was  at  all  certain.  The  nearest  they  came  to 
it  was  to  say  that  amputation  would  save  me  a  world  of 
suffering,  and  could  be  more  safely  endured  now  than  at 
any  future  time.  But  they  did  not  advise  it  positively. 
As  the  leg  belonged  to  me,  I  quietly  concluded  I  would 
try  many  expedients  before  I  would  give  it  up,  and  my 
family  doctor  is  working  on  that  plan.  The  case  is  not 
one  for  medicine,  but  for  general  treatment.  Thank 
Cousin  James  for  his  interest  in  the  matter,  and  for  the 
kind  letters  and  information  he  has  sent  me. 

But  I  must  stop.  Give  love  to  all  the  dear  ones  at 
Madison  Avenue,  not  forgetting  Dora  and  the  baby. 
Pray  for  us  all — we  greatly  need  it.  I  fear  sometimes 
that  Emma  will  break  down  under  her  cares  and  troubles, 
which  never  stop,  day  or  night.  I  know  prayer  has 
been  answered  in  my  behalf  in  the  weary  painful  watches 
of  the  night,  when  I  was  so  exhausted  and  bewildered 
with  suffering  that  I  could  only  plead  His  promise, 
"Come — and  I tcill  give  you  rest."  From  every  direction 
I  get  letters  of  sympathy,  and  the  tidings  come  that  my 
friends  all  over  the  land,  in  Philadelphia,  Boston,  New 
York,  Wilmington,  and  Pittsburgh,  are  remembering  me 
in  prayer.  I  expect  to  come  out  of  this  great  distress! 
But  how  glorious  the  thought  that  even  dying  is  a  victory 
in  my  case,  wrought  out  through  the  blessed  Saviour! 
He  is  my  Friend,  and  has  been  ever  since  He  forgave 
me  my  sins,  and  took  me,  a  poor  orphan  boy  in  the 
Bowery,  and  put  His  Holy  Spirit  into  ray  heart.   I  love  to 


preach  His  gospel,  and  am  glad  that  my  best  strength 
has  been  thus  spent,  and  that  His  blessed  smile  has 
covered  so  much  of  my  poor  efforts.  How  I  would  love 
to  preach  again  this  sweet  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God  ! 
But  it  is  all  right  with  me,  whatever  happens.  All 
things  work  together,  etc.,  etc.  Dear  Emma  sends  her 
love.  Your  grateful  but  suffering  nephew, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 

During  these  months  of  suffering  Mr.  Dickerson 
was  generally  hopeful,  and  kept  himself  readily  open 
to  every  available  source  of  enjoyment.  He  rode 
occasionally  in  an  easy  carriage  ;  enjoyed  constantly 
the  open  air  while  sitting  well  wrapped  and  read- 
ing the  papers  on  the  porch ;  while  often  bolstered 
up  in  chair  or  bed,  he  would  write  for  the  Standard, 
His  head  was  clear  and  free  from  pain,  for  which  he 
often  expressed  gratitude ;  he  read  much,  was  always 
entertaining,  and  vivacious  in  conversation.  During 
this  time  he  was  up  and  dressed  a  part  of  the  day ; 
would  walk  up  and  down  the  parlors  on  his  crutches, 
and  cheer  his  friends  with  the  playful  assurance  that 
he  should  disappoint  the  doctors  and  was  not  going 
to  die.  But  in  August  his  knee  became  much  worse ; 
he  was  weak  and  wasted,  and  suffered  incessantly ; 
and  the  physicians  and  surgeons  who  visited  him 
from  Chicago,  talked  more  of  an  amputation  which 
they  began  to  think  inevitable.  Early  in  September 
we  came  to  our  house  in  Chicago,  and  Mr.  Dickerson 
was  carried  in  a  chair  from  the  carriage  into  the  house 
which  he  never  left  until  his  last  remove  from  any 
earthly  dwelling. 

His  sufferings  during  the  next  month  were  intense, 


a.ft 


252 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


CHICAGO. 


25B 


but  scarcely  suspected  by  those  occasional  visitors 
from  whom  his  cheerful  manner  effectually  disguised 
them.  The  slightest  moving  of  his  leg  became 
torture,  and  at  length  physicians  and  surgeons  alike 
agreed  that  the  only  hope  of  prolonging  his  life  lay 
in  amputating  the  limb,  while  all  were  quite  confi- 
dent that  this  would  lead  to  a  permanent  recovery. 
His  mind  made  up  to  submit  to  the  operation,  he  said 
to  the  doctor,  ''  Now  that  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion, the  sooner  it  is  off  the  better;  I  should  be 
glad  to  have  it  done  to-day." 

The  "day"  speedily  came,  and  on  the  seventh  of 
October  the  sad  operation  was  accomplished.  Mem- 
ory dwells  upon  every  step  of  the  agonizing  scene, 
but  we  spare  the  reader  the  painful  details.  Through 
all  the  preparations  he  lay  on  the  bed  peaceful  and 
apparently  happy.  He  talked  with  the  physician 
who  sat  beside  him,  with  smiles  on  his  face,  and  when 
I  came  with  streaming  eyes  —  for  I  could  not  remain 
in  the  room  —  he  said,  "  This  is  not  the  time  to  cry, 
darling.  I  expect  soon  to  be  more  free  from  pain 
than  I  have  been  for  weeks."  But  to  sit  in  an 
adjoining  room,  following  with  ear  and  imagina- 
tion the  successive  stages  of  the  process,  was  agony 
indescribable.  Blessed  fruit  of  modern  science, 
that  the  most  deeply  interested  was  the  least  con- 
scious sufferer !  ''  Is  my  leg  off?  How  strange  that  I 
did  not  know  it !"  were  among  the  exclamations 
with  which  he  greeted  my  return  to  his  bedside. 

The  first  few  weeks  following  the  operation  were 
days  of  sorrow  and  anxiety.  He  lay  in  a  darkened 
room,  scarcely  seeing   the   family,   while    through 


J 


day    and    night    we   watched    his    slow    recovery 

from  so  terrible  a  shock.     His  acute  suite  ring  was 

less  than  before  the  amputation,  except  during  the 

dressing,  and  sometimes  the  agonizing  probing,  of 

his  limb ;  but  he  suffered  from  intense  prostration, 

profuse  sweating,   resulting  from   the  taking  of  the 

ether,  and  in  various  other  ways.     He  would  lie  for 

hoars  almost  utterly  silent  and  so  nervousl}^  depressed 

that  he  could  endure  the  presence  of  no  persons  in 

his  room  except  his  physicians  and  myself. 

The  news  of  his  sufferings  was  met   by   almost 

universal  sympathy,  and  letters  of  tender  interest 

came  from  almost  every  quarter,  which,  so  soon  as  he 

was  able  to  read  them,  awoke  constantly  the  deepest 

gratitude.     Those,  especially  of  his  sister  Mrs.  Van 

Dusen,  with  their  affectionate  sisterly  interest,  were 

to  him  as  a  healing  balm.     From  an  assemblage  of 

his  ministering  brethren  with  whom    he   had  been 

associated  in  Boston  came  the  following  expression 

of  sympathy: 

Boston,  Oct.  25,  1875. 

Rev.  J.  S.  DiCKERSON,  D.  D. — Dear  Brother:  At  the 
meeting  of  the  Baptist  ministers  of  Boston  this  morning, 
on  motion  of  Rev.  Dr.  Lorimer  a  resolution  of  sym- 
pathy with  you  in  your  present  trial,  and  of  aflfectionate 
remembrance  in  our  prayers,  was  passed  by  a  rising  and 
unanimous  vote. 

Hoping  the  Lord  will  speedily  restore  you  to  serve 
Him  in  your  new  field  of  labor  with  that  acceptance  which 
endeared  you  to  all  hearts  in  this  vicinity,  we   remain, 

Yours  as  ever, 
The  Baptist  Ministers'  Conference  of  Boston. 

For  the  Conference. 

H.  F.  Barnes,  Clerk. 


254 


JAMES  a  DICKERSON. 


CHICAGO. 


255 


One  letter  in  particular,  received  about  this  time 
was  cordially  welcomed.     It  came  from  one  who  had 
never  seen  him,  but  who,  having  in  the  service  of 
his    country    made  a    similar    surrender  of  one  of 
his  limbs,  could  thoroughly  appreciate  the  bereave- 
ment  which  he  had  experienced,  and  could  give  both 
the  sympathy  of  a  kindly  and  Christian  heart,  and 
the  practical  suggestions  and  consolations  of  one  who 
had  gone  through  the  like  terrible  ordeal.     With  its 
sympathetic,  yet  hopeful  and  cheering  tone  it  came 
to  hnn  amidst  the  sad  weeks  following  the  amputa- 
tion,  doubly  welcome. 

Portland,  Maine,  Oct.  27,  1875. 
Rev.  J.  S.  DicKERsox,  D.D.-Jfy  dear  Brother:  I  am 
a  stranger  to  you,  but  I  must  write  vou  a  few  words  1 
see  by  the  papers  that  you  have  been  compelled  to  suffer 
the  loss  of  a  leg.  I  need  not  say  that  I  sympathize  with 
you  deeply,  since  J  have  passed  through  the  same  exne- 
rience,  having  lost  my  left  leg,  above  the  knee,  at  the 
battle  of  Chancellorsville. 

But  I  do  not  write  to  condole  with  you,  but  to  cheer 
you;  to  welcome  you  to  the  noble  army  of  Monopeds. 
We  are  neither  few,  nor   of  small  consequence.      As 
good  men  as  the  sun  shines  on   sport  the  wooden  le^  in 
every  city  of  the  land.     We  welcome  another   to   our 
number.     Don't  get  discouraged.     I  hope  the  Lord  will 
spare  your  life  and  that  you  will  live  to  appreciate  how 
much  art  can  do  to  help  you.     I  have  worn  a  wooden  leff 
for  eleven  years;  can  stand  as  long,  and  walk  as  far,  and 
do  as  much  pastoral  work  as  any  other  man.     I  find  it 
no  hindrance  even  in  baptizing.     To  be  sure  T  can't  run 
to  a  fire  or  chase  a  horse-car,  but  then  I  save  proportion- 
ally m  dignity. 


May  the  Lord  give  you  grace  and  patience  in  your 
trial,  and  health  and  strength  for  many  years  of  good 
work  to  come.  Yours  Fraternally, 

James  McWhinnie, 

Pastor  Free  St.  Bap.  Ch. 

Tears  of  joy  and  gratitude  streamed  down  his 
face  as  he  heard  that  letter;  and  it  seemed  to  give 
him  new  courage.  And  for  weeks  after,  when  he 
was  occasionally  desponding  he  would  say,  "  Well, 
read  me  McWhinnie's  letter  again ;  that  always 
cheers  me." 

He  asked  me  to  reply  to  this  letter,  making  various 
inquiries,  which  I  did,  and  soon  after  he  received 
the  following : 

Portland,  Maine,  Nov.  9,  1875. 

Dear  Brother  Dickerson:  I  was  very  glad  to  hear 
from  Mrs.  Dickerson  in  answer  to  my  previous  letter, 
and  to  learn  that  you  are  improving  so  fast.  If  your 
health  is  restored  with  the  healing  of  the  limb,  you  will 
be  one  of  the  happiest  men  in  Chicago.  Your  wife  asks 
several  questions  which  I  will  try  to  answer. 

I  was  not  so  reduced  in  flesh  as  in  vitality  when  I 
suffered  the  amputation  of  my  leg.  I  had  lain  on  the 
battle-field  for  nearly  thirteen  days  exposed  to  some 
terrible  weather,  and  having  very  little  food.  I  was 
wounded  in  the  legs,  one  of  my  knees  being  completely 
shattered.  On  being  brought  into  our  lines  inflamma- 
tion became  excessive,  and  the  leg  was  amputated  about 
seven  inches  above  the  knee.  I  lav  a  longr  time  in  a 
doubtful  condition,  and  the  limb  not  healing,  I  had  a 
large  abscess  form  in  it,  which  nearly  cost  me  my  life. 
After  that  it  was  found  that  necrosis  of  the  femur  had 
set  in;  and  about  six  months  from  the  amputation  the 


256 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSOX. 


CHICAGO. 


257 


i 


whole  thigh  bone  was  removed    so   far  as   the   socket. 
New  bone,  however,  was  already  forming,  which  at  last 
became  strong  enough  to  use,  and   the  leg  healing,   I 
procured  a  wooden  leg  just   one  year  after  the  amputa- 
tion.    [Then  he  gives  his  experience  as  to  the  best  kind 
of  crutches,  how  they  should  be  used,  etc.,  and  closes  in 
this  way]:  Let  me  say  that  it  requires  courage  to  use  a 
wooden  leg  as  well  as  to  lose  the  old  one.     At  first  it  is 
painful,  awkward,  discouraging  work.     The  first  time  I 
used  mine,  I  was  sorry  the  bullet  had  not  gone  through 
my  head  instead  of  my  knee!     I  thought  I  must  go  back 
to    my  crutches    for  life.       But  I  determined  1   would 
walk  on  the  leg  if  it  killed  me.     So  I  threw  away  one  of 
my  canes  (I  had   been   using  two)  and  went  at  it.     And 
very  soon   I   conquered  the  thing,  and   received   many 
compliments  for   my  superior  walking;   and    I    had  to 
compete  with  the  whole  hospital,  where  there  were  one 
hundred  and  fifty  of  the  same  sort!     Courage  and  care 
at  the  first  will  make  one  a  good  walker;  timidity  and 
carelessness  will  make  him  a  bungler  at  it  all  his  life. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  have  answered  all  your  questions 
seriatim;  but  if  I  can  be  of  any  assistance  please  com- 
mand my  services.  Yours  is  a  great  affliction,  but  with 
health  restored  and  a  good  artificial  leg,  you  will  find 
life  has  not  lost  so  much  as  you  thought.  May  the  Lord 
bless  and  comfort  you  both! 

Yours  very  truly, 

J.  McWhixnie. 

This  letter  affected  Mr.  Diekerson  in  many  ways. 
It  made  him  grateful  that  his  suffering  had  been  in 
comparison  less  protracted  and  intense,  and  that 
while  suffering  he  had  been  at  home  and  kindly  cared 
for.     It  gave   him   hope   and   encouragement,  and 


f 


■liMi 


wmmmm 


diminished  largely  that  terrible  dread  of  the  wooden 
leg  which  had  constantly  haunted  him,  but  to  which 
he  had  never  given  utterance  until  it  was  in  so  large 
a  measure  dissipated  by  these  encouraging  letters. 

By  the  first  of  November  we  were  rejoicing  in  his 
manifest  improvement,  and  the  atmosphere  of    the 
house  seemed  less  dreary.     The  children,  hitherto 
excluded,  could  come  in  and  talk  with  their  father, 
and  little  Gracie,  nearly  two  years  old,  could  wait 
round  his  bedside,  share  his  dainties,  and  be  delighted 
with  the  old-time  stories,  and  with  the  assurance  of 
"a  good  frolic  with  her  one  of  these  days."     By  the 
close  of  the  month,  the  healing  process  was  still  far- 
ther advanced,  and  it  was  a  glad  day  when,  though 
obliged  to  be  carried  to  the  table,  he  could  sit  with 
us  and  enjoy  a  Thanksgiving  dinner.     It  was  indeed 
a  dinner  of  thanksgiving,  and  tears  were  in  all  our 
eyes  as  he  asked  a  tender  blessing  on  the  meal.    The 
neatly  arranged  table,  the  flowers  and  the  fruit  that 
adorned  it,  the  "  Welcome  "  wrought  in  evergreens, 
and  every  little  mark  of  care  and  love,  brimmed  his 
heart  and  eyes  with  overflowing  gratitude. 

The  same  apparent  improvement  continued 
through  the  month  of  December.  He  writes  thus 
to  his  old  Wilmington  friend,  Dr.  William  Aikman, 
then  residing  in  Detroit : 

December  6,  1875. 

Rev.  Dr.  Aikmax.  Mi/  very  dear  brother:  You  will 
excuse  my  pencil  I  know;  for,  bolstered  up  as  I  am,  pen 
and  ink  would  be  very  troublesome  facilities. 

Your  kind  letter  has  touched  my  heart,  and  awakened 
memories  of  the  most  tender  kind.     Yourself,  vour  wife 


2.'i8 


JAMES  S.  DICKER80N. 


and  your  dear  children,  as  they  were  in  the  solemn  and 
eventful  days  of  the  war,  have  been  passing  before  me. 
and  forms  of  my  own  loved  ones  blend  with  them-forms 
that  have  vanished  to  the  peaceful  skies. 

I  have  indeed  been  terribly  afflicted.     A  sufferer  from 
rheumatic  fever  for  nearly  a  year,  and  then  laid  aside 
with   an   inflamed   knee    for    many   months  of   terrible 
agony    I  finally,  when    wasted  to  ninety  pounds,  sub- 
mitted to  the  knife  and  the  saw  of  the  surgeon.     On  the 
7th  of  October,  the  mysterious  etherized  cap  was  drawn 
over  my  face.     As  I  knew  in  whom  I  trusted,  I  was  calm 
as  If  sinking  to  a  natural  sleep!     But  oh!  the  fearful 
desolate  weeks  of  reaction,  weakness  and  pain!    I  thank 
God  they  are  behind  me.     Many  a  time  have  I  sorrowed 
that  I  ever  awoke  from   the  surgeon's  table      But  I  am 
now   comparatively  comfortable,   and    gainino-    slowly 
I  am  so  thin  and  sore  that  I  fail  to  get  sound,  sweet 
sleep,-  otherwise  I  think  I  should  soon  be  on  crutches 
and  about  the  house.     How  genuine  your  sympathy  will 
be  for  me,  I  know  full  well.     In  the  no  distant  future  I 
see  brighter  skies. 

But  now  I  am  tired  out  and  will  stop.     Give  mv  love 
to  your  dear  wife  and  all  the  children. 

My  own  family  are  well.     We  number  just  as  we  did 
m  1861— only  darling  Ada  went  home  to  the  better  life 
and  our  baby  Grace,  nearly  two  years  old,  makes  good 
the  number.     Mrs.  Dickerson  sends  her  love. 
I  am,  as  ever,  your  friend  and  brother, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 
The  following  paragraphs  are  from  a  letter  to  his 
uncle,  James  Stokes,  dated  Dec.  20 : 

*  *  *  I  am  getting  on  but  very  slowly.  I  am  so 
wasted  and  my  bones  so  sore  that  I  can  not  sit  or  lie 
long  in  any  one  place.     Hence  I  fail  to  get  good  sleep 


CHICAGO. 


259 


This  is  my  great  drawback  now.  I  sit  up  for  a  while 
every  day.  My  doctor  comes  now  but  twice  a  week,  and 
says  everything  looks  hopeful. 

I  think  God  has  guided  me  in  all  my  sad  way,  and  I 
praise  Him  for  His  mercies.  I  hope  to  be  on  my  crutches 
in  a  few  days.  We  are  all  usually  well.  Emma  begins 
to  look  as  bright  and  cheery  as  ever.  A  month  ago,  I 
had  to  call  her  up  fifteen  or  twenty  times  in  the  night;— 
now,  only  once  or  twice.  I  really  think  her  strength  was 
providentially  increased  to  meet  the  terrible  strain  on 
her  body,  heart  and  mind.  "  As  thy  day,  so  shall  thy 
strength  be."     Blessed  promise. 

Give  my  love  to  Aunt  Caroline  and  all  the  children. 
May  God  bless  you  all ! 

Affectionately,  your  nephew, 

James  S.  Dickerson. 
During  all  this  period,  many  letters  of  tender  sym- 
pathy were  coming  to  him.  His  old  Church  in 
Boston,  gladdened  our  Christmas  hearth  with  a  o-en- 
erous  present,  and  our  hearts  with  still  more  precious 
words  of  affectionate  remembrance.  From  a  laro-e 
gathering  of  Boston  Baptists,  in  his  former  house  of 
worship,  came  by  vote  of  the  body  a  telegraphic 
message  of  greeting  and  sympathy,  to  which  he 
gratefully  responded. 

Mr.  Dickerson's  improvement  continued  until  the 
middle  of  January.  About  this  time  an  abscess 
which  had  been  gathering  in  his  "little  leg,"  as  we 
termed  the  amputated  limb,  broke;  and  from  this 
point  he  began  slowly— and  for  some  weeks,  quite 
imperceptibly — to  decline.  Even  yet,  however,  we 
indulged  no  fear  of  a  fatal  termination  of  the  dis- 
ease, and  my  husband   said  to  me   one   day,  *'  We 


■rr 


260 


JAMES  S.  DTCKERSON. 


CHICAGO. 


261 


lii  n 


H 

lit 


have  been  through  a  long  and  hard  year  of  trials — 
hard  for  me,  hard  for  you.  How  thankful  should 
we  be  that  the  worst  is  over  ;  that  your  husband  is 
spared  and  the  outlook  so  favorable !  "  During  all  this 
time  he  was  cheerful,  with  an  almost  uninterrupted 
flow  of  his  old-time  spirits.  Letters  were  read  and 
written,  stories  were  told,  songs  were  sung,  conver- 
sations passing  ''  from  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to 
severe,"  were  held  alike  with  family  and  with  friends, 
and  if  all  did  not  go  '•''  merry  as  a  marriage  bell,"  yet, 
at  least,  we  none  of  us  caught  the  muffled  death- 
knell  that  was  in  the  near  distance.  The  antici- 
pated wooden  leg  became  naturally  an  object  of 
speculation ;  and  since  Mr.  McWhinnie's  letter  had 
so  largely  disarmed  it  of  its  terrors,  he  could  al- 
lude to  it  not  only  without  nervousness,  but  often 
in  his  characteristic  style  of  playful  banter.  The 
knowledge  that  the  dreaded  wood,  which  was  to  re- 
place the  lost  member,  would  be  of  so  light  weight 
(not  more  than  three  and  a  half  pounds),  had  taken 
a  much  heavier  weight  from  ofT  his  mind,  and  he 
looked  forward  to  the  time  when  thus  refurnished 
he  should  again  tread  the  paths  of  active  duty.  He 
could,  like  Hood,  joke  about  his  infirmities,  illustrat- 
ing the  laughing  face  under  which  the  most  serious 
feeling  will  sometimes  disguise  itself.  Hood's  grim 
joke  of  "  too  much  mustard  for  the  quantity  of  meat," 
when  his  wife  was  laying  a  mustard  plaster  on  his 
emaciated  limb,  might  be  paralleled  by  several  sim- 
ilar playful  allusions  of  Mr.  Dickerson  to  his  unfor- 
tunate member.  I  will  mention  but  one.  He  was 
asked  by  one  of  the  children,  if  he  could  move  his 


"little  leg"  without  touching  it  (he  had  had  for 
weeks  no  power  over  it,  and  we  had  had  to  lift  and 
move  it).  "  O  yes,"  he  replied,  uncovering  it  as  he 
sat  in  his  eas}^  chair,  and  moving  it  up  and  down  in 
a  comical  way, — "  Speak  for  yourself,  old  fellow ; 
be  the  stump  orator  of  the  occasion  ! " 

But  the  playful  glided  insensibly  and  naturally 
into  the  serious.  His  humor  rippled  brightly  and 
delicately  over  the  deep  stream  of  earnest  thought 
and  emotion.  His  prayers  at  family  worship,  as  he 
sat  in  his  chair,  unable  either  to  rise  or  to  kneel, 
were  full  of  devout  aspirations ;  the  breathings  of  a 
soul  glowing  with  gratitude  to  the  Lord  for  His 
mercies,  and  making  such  tender  references  to  the 
dark  weeks  of  suffering  as  often  melted  us  to  tears. 
He  would  sing  with  us  until  he  began  to  cough,  and 
then,  after  an  interval  of  choking,  would  join  in 
again  with  his  clear,  sweet  voice.  Such  grand  old 
hymns  as,  "  The  Star  of  Bethlehem,"  ''  Rock  of 
Ages,"  "  There  is  a  Land  of  Pure  Delight,"  ''Jesus, 
Thy  name  I  love,"  "  Nearer  my  God  to  Thee,"  were 
among  those  which  he  constantly  called  for,  and 
never  tired  of  hearing. 


Ill 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


HIS    FINAL  ILLNESS. 


I  had  noticed  through  February  that  my  husband 
was  somewhat  weaker,  but  as  this  was  a  natural  con- 
sequence of  the  abscess,  and  as  his  appetite  was  good, 
I  did  not  regard  it  as  at  all  dangerous.     He  was  in 
the  meantime  so  hopeful,  so  much  interested  in  all 
external  and  public  matters,  especially  in  all  that 
concerned  the  paper  and  the  church,  with  the  interests 
of  both  of  which  he  hoped  confidently  to  be  soon 
again  actively  connected,  that  all  serious  fears  were 
kept  in  constant  abeyance,  and  rarely  broke  in  on  the 
delusive  dream  of  his  recovery.     From  that  dream, 
however,  we   were   at  length   effectually  aroused. 
In  March,  we  observed  that  he  sat  up  each  day  a 
shorter  time  than  the  day  previous ;  he  was  less  an- 
imated and  became  sooner  weary,  and  by  the  middle 
of  the  month   the   physician's  kindly  uttered    but 
dreadful  words,  ''no  hope,"  thrilled  alike  on  our  ears 
and  hearts.     I  now  began  to  note  down  each  even- 
ing such  words  as  would  be  precious  in  the  remem- 
brance, and  perhaps  I  can  not  do  better  than  make 
extracts  from  this  sad  diary. 

The  scenes  on  which  they  lift  the  veil  seem,  in- 
deed, almost  too  sacred  for  strangers'  eyes ;  yet,  I 
may  recall  and  make  my  own  the  words  of  Fanny 

262 


FINAL  ILLNESS. 


263 


Forester  when,  in  her  memories  of  Mrs.  Sarah  B. 
Judson,  she  portrays  the  closing  scenes  in  the  life  of 
her  first  husband.  *' There  is  nothing  on  earth  so 
beautiful  as  the  household  in  which  love  forever 
smiles,  and  where  religion  walks  as  counselor  and 
friend.  No  cloud  can  darken  it,  for  its  twin  stars  are 
centered  in  the  soul.  No  storm  can  make  it  trem- 
ble— it  has  an  earthly  support,  the  gift  of  Heaven, 
and  a  heavenly  anchor.  But  the  roof  beneath  which 
it  dwells  shelters  a  sacred  spot,  where  the  curious 
eye  must  not  peer  nor  the  stranger-foot  tread.  So 
it  is  with  the  warm  soul-breathing  missives  now 
beside  me.  *  *  *  At  this  moment,  however,  a 
pair  of  young,  dark  eyes  rise  before  me,  that  will 
read  the  page  with  the  interest  of  an  only  and  be- 
loved daughter,  and  then  turn  back  tearfully  to  the 
sad  scenes  which  she  can  not  yet  have  entirely  for-  * 
gotten.  For  her  sake  shall  a  few  passages  be  writ- 
ten down  that  may  perhaps  recall  lost  fragments  of 
the  picture  now  in  her  heart." 

So  I  feel  as  I  look  at  "dear  little  Blue  Eyes" 
standing  beside  me,  who  remembers  her  father's 
kind  words  and  songs  and  stories,  and  her  many  lit- 
tle acts  of  love  toward  him ;  and  who  will,  I  am 
persuaded,  prize,  next  to  her  Bible,  the  precious  her- 
itasre  of  these  his  last  utterances.  So  I  feel  as  I  turn 
in  thought  to  the  older  children  who  now  hold  in 
remembrance  much  that  is  recorded  here,  but  who, 
when  years  shall  cloud  and  dim  the  impression,  will 
seek  these  pages  to  refresh  their  hearts  with  the 
revived  and  brightened  memory.  And  the  further 
hope  that  in  following  a  life  of  such  Christian  fidel- 


HI 


;►. 


264 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


ity  and  loveliness  to  its  peaceful  and  triumphant 
close  some  timid  spirits  may  find  a  lessening  of  their 
dread  of  the  last  conflict,  induces  me  partially  to  un- 
veil what  might  seem  too  sacred  fov  the  intruding 
gaze  of  the  stranger.  But  it  is  not  for  himself  alone 
that  the  servant  of  God  receives  his  precious  experi- 
ences of  grace;  it  is  for  all  who  have  the  like  her- 
itage of  sin  and  guilt  and  moral  struggle.  The  life 
of  one  Christian  should,  as  far  as  possible,  be  made 
available  for  the  benefit  of  all;  the  joys  and 
triumphs  of  each  believer  become  the  common  her- 
itage of  the  Church,  and  especiallv  the  liq-ht  that  for 
one  has  brightened  the  dark  valley,  should,  as  far  as 
may  be,  be  caught  and  tlirown  back  to  cheer  others 
that  are  bound  to  the  same  inevitable  pathway. 

Therefore  I  make  some  extracts  from  my  evening 
jottings  at  that  time,  when,  after  the  house  was 
quiet,  the  dear  one  comfortably  settled  for  a  nap,  I 
sat  down  in  the  stillness  and  wrote  these  words, 
which  would  soon,  I  knew,  be  among  the  last  on 
earth  from  him  whose  voice  was  music  to  my  ear ; 
in  whose  sunny  smile  I  basked  with  joy,  and  whose 
loving  words  made  earth  a  Heaven  to  me. 

March  15.  *  *  *  He  seems  to  liave  more  fever 
the  last  few  days,  and  his  cough  increases  very  much, 
but  the  acute  pain  from  which  he  has  suffered  has  meas- 
urably passed  away  and  he  rests  better,  thouorh  his  sleep 
is  not  refreshing.  *  *  *  His  hope  never  fails.  He  is 
submissive  and  patient,  kind  and  loving  to  us  all,  and  so 
appreciative  of  all  we  do.  Even  in  his  weariness  he  is 
always  thinking  of  others.  He  thanks  "the  dear  Lord" 
SO  often  "for  all  His  mercies  to  us," — thanks  Him  for  his 


LAST  DAYS. 


265 


sleep,  for  quiet,  for  me,  for  his  happy  home,  for  his  com- 
parative comfort  when  he  thinks  of  the  days  and  the 
weeks  after  the  amputation.  He  seems  so  grateful  that 
I  keep  well,  and  am  able  to  take  care  of  him  and  be  with 

him  all  the  time. 

As  I  remarked  this  afternoon  that  my  head  ached 
badly,  I  supposed  because  I  cried  so  this  morning,  he 

said, 

"Yes,  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  it  was  very  unprofita- 
ble, but  I  thought  you  would  feel  better  to  have  your 
cry  out.     But,  darling,  you  must  try  to  keep  cheerful. 
I  am  struggling  to  stay  on  this  side  of  the  river,  and  it 
is  hard  sometimes  to  feel  cheerful;  but  if  you  get  blue 
and  discouraged  it  will  be  harder  still  for  me;  that  takes 
me  riirht  down.     If  it  were  not  for  you  and  the  children, 
I  woiUd  be  glad  to  die  this  minute;  that  is,  unless  I  could 
be  well  again,  and  do  xoork,  and  be  of  some  service." 
Then,  in  a'more  cheerful  tone,  he  added,  "But  I  think 
it  is  all  coming  right;  we  ought  to  be  hopeful.     I  expect 
to  enjoy  many  happy  years  with  you  yet."     O,  how  hard 
it  is  for  me  to  respond  when  he  makes  such  remarks! 
This  evening,  as  he  looked  at  Gracie,  he  said: 
"Dear  little   tot!    what  a  comfort  she  has  been  to  us. 
I   think   her   presence   and   sweet  cunning  ways  have 
helped  you  to  bear  the  burdens."     All  his  words  are 
full  of   love.     Sometimes  I  think    he   feels  that  he  is 
<rrowincr  worse,  and  I  notice  how   his  eyes  will  follow 
Gracie,°ofttimes  with  a  sad  look  as  if  he  thought,  "  poor 
little  dear,  I'm  afraid  you  will  soon  be  left  without  a 
dear  papa."     But  he  says  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  does 
not  want  to  hear  a  discouraging  word,  or  see  a  sad  look, 
or  catch  even  the  echo  of  a  sigh. 

A  day  or  two  since  he  had  a  beautiful  vision  which 
brought  gladness  to  his  heart,  but  sorrow  to  mine.     He 


12 


266 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


I  I 


awoke  from  a  short  nap  and  said  in  his  pleasant  voice: 
"Darling,  are  you  there?"  I  was  sitting  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed  where  he  could  not  see  me,  and  when  I  replied, 
he  remarked: 

"I  have  had  a  glorious  vision.     I  hated  to  awake  and 
see  it  vanish.     I  don't  know  where  I  was  exactly,  but 
just  before  me  I  saw  a  beautiful  being  lift  a  curtain,  and 
then,  turning  toward  me,  he  said,  'Gaze  in  there;  there 
is  joy  and  gladness.'     And  I  looked  and  saw  such  a  beau- 
tiful place;  oh,  I  can't  describe  it,  but  it  was  filled  with 
lovely,  happy  people,  and  they  were  full  of   mirth  and 
joy.     And  the  one  who  lifted  the  curtain  said,  '  There 
is  no  pain  or  suflFering,  but  only  joy  to  those  who  enter 
here.'     Then  the  curtain   dropped  and  the  vision  van- 
ished.    Now,"  he  added,  "  I  take  that  for  a  good  omen. 
I  think  the  glad  times  are  soon  coming  back  to  us,  and 
our  home  will  be  filled  with  mirth  and  joy  again."     But 
the  vision  brought  no  such  glad  thoughts  to  me!     I  felt 
that  the  curtain  would  soon  be  lifted  and  he  would  enter 
that  joyful  home,  but  I  should  be  left  here,  and  the  glad 
times  were  ?iot  yet  for  me. 

Thursday^  March  IG.  To-day  he  has  passed  quite 
comfortably,  except  that  at  times  his  breath  is  very  short, 
and  his  coughing  spells  wearing  and  hard  to  get  through 
with.  But  when  they  are  easier  than  he  anticipated, 
oh,  how  grateful  he  is,  saying  so  earnestly,  "Thank  the 
dear  Lord  for  that."  But  if  he  has  a  long,  hard  time, 
he  is  so  patient  and  uncomplaining  !  He  still  has  those 
terrible  chills  and  sweats;  is  very  restless,  very  fe/erish. 
I  have  had  to  keep  the  windows  open  all  day,  notwith- 
standing the  wind  and  rain  and  snow,  and  even  then  he 
has  many  times  felt  a  sense  of  suflPocation,  and  the  pain 
in  his  chest  seems  to  increase.  *  *  *  This  evening 
sister  Fanny  has  been  singing  some  sweet  old-fashioned 


LAST  DAYS. 


267 


hymns  in  the  parlor,  which  have  given  him  great  de- 
light. His  eyes  filled  as  he  listened  to  them,  and  when 
he  talked  of  the  blessed  times  in  the  old  prayer-meet- 
ings, spoke  of  the  different  members  that  used  to  take 
part,  and  said,  "  I  thank  the  dear  Lord  that  He  ever  hon- 
ored me  by  allowing  me  to  preach  the  blessed  gospel. 
Blessed  be  His  name!  He  has  helped  me  all  through 
my  life!  His  grace  has  done  it  all.  Had  I  not  been 
converted  and  become  a  minister,  I  don't  know  to  what 
a  depth  of  depravity  I  might  have  si>nk.  But  the  Lord 
has  blessed  me  all  through.  When  a  friendless  orphan 
He  was  near  me,  and  all  the  good  I  have  accomplished, 
all  the  little  I  have  done,  is  by  His  grace  and  that  alone, 
and  I  hope  I  can  honor  Him  still  for  many  years  of  work 
in  His  blessed  cause."  He  is  still  full  of  hope,  and  feels 
terribly  if  I  look  sad  or  discouraged.  I  read  to  him  from 
James,  to-night,  the  chapter  which  contains  the  words, 
"  And  the  prayer  of  faith  shall  save  the  sick,  and  the 
Lord  will  raise  him  up."  O,  how  fervently  he  responded 
amen,  to  that  passage!  *  *  *  Indeed  he  does  not 
want  to  hear  anything  discouraging  about  any  matters 
whatever.  ' 

He  is  always  glad  to  see  his  eldest  son  when  he  comes 
home,  and  enjoys  a  nice  talk  with  him  about  affairs  at 
the  office;  but  if  anything  on  the  shady  side  is  spoken 
of,  he  says,  "  Don't  tell  me  that,  Spencer  ;  that  makes 
me  nervous;  tell  me  all  the  pleasant  things."  He  talks 
to  him  much  of  old  times  and  old  experiences,  partly 
to  entertain  himself,  I  often  think. 

He  has  not  been  able  to  get  up  into  his  chair  for  some 
days,  and  to-day  did  not  even  sit  up  in  the  bed  against 
the  pillows.  It  tires  him  to  raise  his  head,  and  he  takes 
much  of  his  food  through  a  glass  tube.  He  is  very  weak, 
and  he  breathes  so  heavily  that  his  whole  body  moves. 


268 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


But  he  keeps  talking  of  getting  well,  and  said  to-day: 
"Do  you  think  I  had  better  get  up  and  try  to  write  a 
few  letters,  or  shall  I  let  them  go  for  a  few  days?"  I 
told  him  he  had  better  remain  in  the  bed  while  he  was 
so  weak;  that  there  was  nothing  special  to  be  gained  by 
getting  up.  So  he  seemed  satisfied,  and  1  carefully  turned 
him,  rubbed  his  sore  shoulder  with  bay  rum,  which  re- 
freshed him  somewhat,  and  he  said,  "  O,  I'm  so  glad  I 
did  not  make  the  exertion,  this  is  so  much  better."    *    *    * 

Friday^  March  17.  This  has  been  a  day  of  trouble 
and  sorrow.  His  breath  has  been  shorter  than  ever  be- 
fore. He  told  me  this  morninor  that  he  sometimes  felt 
frightened  about  himself,  and  was  afraid  he  might  lose 
his  breath  altogether  some  of  these  times.  He  said, 
"You  must  raise  me  up,  and  give  me  more  air  when 
you  see  me  so  affected."  The  doctor  was  here  this  after- 
noon, but  gave  him  no  encouragement..  After  talking  to 
him  about  his  troubles  awhile,  he  said,  "Do  you  ever 
feel  like  giving  it  all  up,  doctor?"  "No,  only  occasion- 
ally," Mr.  Dickerson  replied,  "  when  I  have  those  suffocat- 
ing times.  No,  I  am  coming  through  all  right."  With  a 
sad  face,  taking  his  hand,  the  doctor  said,  "Your  faith 
is  great,  and  that  is  the  best  part  of  it.  If  there  was 
anything  to  build  upon,  and  we  could  check  this  cough, 
you  might  soon  get  better."  "  If  there  was  "  — O,  what 
little  words,  but  of  what  great  import  to  me.  "If  there 
was:" — They  echoed  through  my  heart  like  a  dirge,  and 
my  silent,  agonizing  prayer  ascended  to  Heaven, 
"Canst  Thou  not  raise  him  up,  even  from  this  low 
place?  O,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me;" 
but  I  could  not  say,  "Nevertheless  not  my  will,  but  Thine 
be  done." 

Notwithstanding  these  words  from  the  doctor,  he  still 
feels  hopeful.     He  says  he  has  had  an  assurance  from  the 


LAST  DAYS. 


269 


Lord  that  he  would  get  well,  and  remarked  to  me,  "  I 
wish  you  could  get  hold  of  the  promises  as  I  have  done, 
and  feel  more  hopeful,  for  I  see  you  often  look  despond- 
ing, and  almost  despairing."  I  had  a  few  words  with  the 
doctor  in  the  parlor,  and  when  I  came  back  into  the  room 
Mr.  Dickerson  asked,  "What  does  the  doctor  say?  I 
see  he  is  worried,  and  you  are  worried,  and  it  troubles 
me."  I  replied,  "  The  doctor  feels  almost  discouraged. 
You  are  so  weak  and  your  pulse  so  high."  "O,  dear, 
dear,"  he  said,  "1  am  a  poor,  weak,  sick  body,  and  I 
must  carry  the  burden,  carry  you  all,  when  the  doctor 
and  every  one  else  seems  discouraged.  I  wish  you  all 
felt  hopeful,  and  helped  me  along."  What  could  I  say? 
My  tears  were  my  only  answer.     *     *     * 

Saturday,  March  18.  I  read  to  Mr.  Dickerson  last 
evening  the  118th  Psalm,  in  which  are  the  verses,  "Thou 
hast  afflicted  me  sore.  Thou  hast  brought  me  low,  but  Thou 
hast  not  given  me  over  to  death;"  to  which  he  responded, 
"No,  no,  thank  the  dear  Lord,  no."  And  another,  "I 
shall  not  die,  but  live  and  declare  the  works  of  the 
Lord,"  to  which  he  softly  said,  "  Yes,  yes  " — and  when  I 
had  done  reading,  he  remarked,  "That  is  a  good  Psalm; 
mark  that  one."  This  has  been  a  quiet  day.  He  has 
slept  a  great  deal,  and  the  pain  is  not  as  severe  in  his 
chest.  He  has  not  coughed  as  often,  or  as  severely. 
Dr.  Smith  called  this  afternoon,  and  sat  with  him  a  few 
moments.  He  enjoyed  talking  to  him,  and  to  Dr.  Cheney 
who  was  here  a  few  days  since,  but  he  sees  very  few  of 
those  who  call,  and  the  few  but  for  a  short  time.  As  Dr. 
Smith  looked  at  a  picture  of  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo, 
which  hung  above  the  fire-place,  he  said,  "What  a  fine 
picture  that  is!  How  often  I  have  crossed  that  bridge. 
How  I  should  love  to  go  there  again ! "  Then  after  a 
moment   he    added,  "I   often  think   I   may  go  again." 


270 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


''Yes,"  said  Mr.  Dickerson,  in  a  cheerful  voice;  "Well, 
when  you  go,  take  me  with  you.  1  sometimes  dream  of 
going  again!"  "I  could  wish  for  no  ])etter  company," 
replied  Dr.  Smith.  But  after  an  instant,  with  a  sad 
look  on  his  face,  Mr.  Dickerson  said,  "Sometimes  I  think 
it  is  all  a  dream!"  Ah  yes!  he  will  soon  start  on  a 
journey  to  the  other  shore,  but  not  hand  in  hand  with 
me  for  a  joyful  rest  and  recreation  in  those  Eastern 
lands  where  we  once  enjoyed  so  much  together  and 
spent  so  many  happy  days.  *  *  *  He  seemed  very 
much  exhausted  to-night  about  ten  o'clock,  and  looked 
more  sunken  and  sick  than  I  had  ever  seen  him.  I  was 
just  ready  to  read  to  him  from  the  Bible,  but  he  seemed 
so  weary  I  said,  "Perhaps  you  feel  too  tired  to-night  to 
hear  me  read?"  He  waited  a  few  moments  and  then  said, 
"I  do  feel  very  weary — but  read  me  a  few  verses.  Let 
us  honor  the  word  of  God." 

Sunday,  March  19.  No  particular  change  to-day, 
except  that  he  does  not  look  as  bright,  and  seems  very, 
very  weak.  The  children  all  went  to  Sunday  school  and 
to  church.  1  read  the  Watchman,  the  Examiner,  and 
the  Standard  to  Mr.  Dickerson  while  they  were  gone, 
and  he  seemed  to  enjoy  them;  but  afterward  as  T  turned 
him  upon  the  bed,  he  was  suffering  so  extremely,  his 
throat  burning,  and  his  breath  short,  he  said  with  a  sigh, 
" This  is  hardly  worth  fighting  for.  1  would  almost  rather 
go  than  to  stay  and  suffer  any  longer."  He  still  has 
these  terrible  chills,  which  we  who  are  well  know  little 
of.  He  dreads  them  so  that  he  has  sometimes  said  when 
they  begin  to  crawl  over  him,  "I  would  rather  die  than 
go  through  another"— but,  he  would  add,  "  I  will  try  to 
bear  all  that  the  Lord  sends  upon  me,  and  He  knows 

why  it  is  best." 

*    *    *     *     Dr.  Everts  saw  him  a  few  moments  this 


LAST  DAYS. 


271 


afternoon,  and  from  his  looks  and  words  Mr.  Dickerson 
imagined  that  he  too  (who  has  always  talked  so  hope- 
fully) was  becoming  discouraged;  for,  as  he  was  leaving 
the  room,  Mr.  D.  spoke  up  with  his  natural,  full-toned 
voice,  "  Doctor,  don't  be  discouraged.  Keep  praying 
with  cheerful  hope  and  faith."  In  a  short  prayer  he  offered 
in  bed  the  other  night — his  last  audible  prayer—  he  said, 
"  Dear  Lord,  though  I  am  weary,  and  worn,  and  very 
-weak,  I  thank  Thee  to-night  that  the  day  has  been  as 
comfortable  as  it  has;  that  I  have  had  so  little  acute 
pain,  and  so  much  to  be  grateful  for.  Give  us  a  sweet 
sleep  to-night,  and  may  T  awake  in  the  morning  feeling 
brighter  and  stronger.  May  it  be  Thy  will  to  restore  me 
soon  to  health,  to  enjoy  all  the  rightful  pleasures  of  life 
with  the  dear  ones  I  love,  and  to  work  for  Thfee,  that 
work  I  love  so  much,  so  well.  Dear  Lord,  sustain  me  ; 
hold  me  up  when  I  am  ready  to  sink.  Let  not  Satan, 
the  author  of  all  our  pain  and  sorrows,  gain  the  mastery 
over  me.  Be  thou  near  me.  Give  me  hope  of  heart, 
faith  of  mind,  and  constant  trust  in  Thee.  Bless  dear 
Emma!  ********* 
Be  near  her,  and  bless  the  dear  children,  and  all  in 
the  house,  and  all  we  love.  Keep  us  and  care  for  us, 
and  may  I  feel  Thine  arm  upholding  me  all  the  time. 
We  ask  for  Jesus'  sake.     Amen." 

This  evening  I  asked  him  if  there  was  any  particular 
chapter  he  would  like  to  hear  me  read.  He  replied, 
"  Yes,  read  in  Acts  of  Paul's  release  from  prison."  I  did 
so,  and  he  enjoyed  it. 

Monday,  March  20.  A  cold,  wintry  morning.  It  is 
snowing  fast,  and  everything  looks  dreary  in  the  outer 
world,  but  not  more  so  than  are  our  hearts  to-day.  *  *  * 
This  has  been  a  hard,  sad  day,  and  at  five  o'clock,  as  I 
tried  to  raise  him  up  I  did  not  know  but  he  would  die 


nil 


272 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


ill  my  arms,  he  panted  and  gasped  for  so  long  a  time.  1 
was  alone  with  him.  He  told  me  soon  after  that  he  was 
in  great  distress,  and  had  very  strange  feelings.  I  imme- 
diately sent  for  the  doctor.  1  saw  him  before  he  came 
into  the  room,  and  told  him  that  when  he  saw  Mr.  Dick- 
erson,  if  he  felt  that  he  could  not  live  a  great  many  days, 
he  had  better  tell  him  so.  I  did  not  want  him  to  die 
without  saying  something  to  us  all,  and  I  felt  now  that 
knowino-  his  condition  could  not  make  much  difference 
with  him.  Besides,  I  said,  though  no  one  in  the  world 
is  better  prepared  to  go,  I  think  he  would  rather  know 
it,  if  he  must  die,  than  to  be  taken  by  surprise.  The 
doctor  replied,  "You  had  better  send  for  your  friends, 
and  I  will  tell  him."  Spencer  had  then  gone  out  to 
telegraph  to  Mr.  Dickerson's  sister,  Mrs.  Van  Dusen,  and 
to  Mr.  Goodman,  who  was  in  New  York.  The  doctor 
went  in,  sat  down  by  him,  took  his  hand,  timed  his  pnlse, 
and  then  said,  "Well,  doctor,  how  do  you  feel  to-night?" 
Mr.  Dickerson  replied  in  his  usual,  cheerful  tone,  "I  feel 
pretty  comfortable  just  now,  and  I  think  I  breathe  easier 
than  I  did.  Now,  if  you  can  do  something  to  help  this 
throat  of  mine,  which  is  very  sore  and  raw,  I  think  I 
shall  soon  feel  better."  The  doctor  replied  slowly,  "Ah, 
doctor,  that  throat  is  a  minor  trouble.  The  struggle  is 
coming  down  here  in  your  chest "  (laying  his  hand  there, 
and  looking  at  him  tenderly).  "  Can  you  bear  to  have  me 
tell  you  something? "  "  Yes,"  said  xMr.  Dickerson,  "any 
thing,  doctor,  anything."  The  doctor  said  very  slowly, 
"  I  have  done  many  hard  things  in  my  life,  but  this  is  the 
hardest  thing  I  ever  did,  to  come  and  tell  you  that  you 
can  not  live  long.  'Tis  hard  to  tell  one  who  has 
suffered  so  long  and  so  patiently  that  he  can  not  get 
well."  Mr.  Dickerson  replied  in  the  sweetest  voice, 
*'That  does  not  trouble  me,  doctor;  no,  that  does  not 


LAST  DAYS. 


273 


trouble  me!  "  Then  his  physician  added,  "  I  have  enjoyed 
your  fellowship,  doctor;  I  have  loved  you  so  much;  more 
than  I  can  tell  you,  and  I  have  dreaded  to  come  and  tell 
you  this."  "  That  love  has  been  reciprocated,"  said  Mr. 
Dickerson.  "  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  knew  it,  and  that 
is  what  has  made  me  happy.  I  have  used  my  utmost 
skill  to  help  you,  but  I  can  not  cure  you;"  and  after  a 
little  pause  he  said  tenderly,  with  a  trembling  voice, 
"  but  the  Lord  can.''''  Then  he  prepared  some  medicine 
for  him,  and  told  him  he  would  do  all  he  could  to  alleviate 
him.  Mr.  D.  said  very  quietly  and  calmly,  "That  is  all 
I  ask,  doctor."  With  a  tearful  good-bye  the  doctor 
pressed  his  hand,  and  left  the  room.  As  I  took  my  seat 
on  an  ottoman  by  the  bed,  I  said,  as  soon  as  I  could 
speak,  "You  know  now,  darling,  why  I  could  not  keep 
cheerful,  why  I  have  been  in  agony  for  weeks  past." 
Taking  my  hand,  and  speaking,  oh,  so  softW,  he  said, 
"Yes,  but  we'll  talk  about  it  by-and-bye."  He  wanted  a 
little  time  to  think,  for  the  words  of  the  doctor  must 
have  shocked  him,  even  though  he  was  prejmred  for  the 
change.  We  sat  quiet  for  a  while,  when  he  said  very 
calmly,  "The  Lord  has  been  our  Friend  all  along,  and  He 
will  be  our  Friend  still.  He  loves  us  and  will  care  for 
us;  an-d  if  the  doctor  is  right,  and  I  must  go,  it  will  not 
be  long  before  we  shall  all  be  together  again,  a  happy 
band."  Then  brightening  up,  and  with  a  smile  on  his 
face,  as  he  looked  at  me,  he  said,  "  But  /  don't  give  it 
up  yet.  Though  the  doctor  and  everyone  else  is  dis- 
couraged, you  and  T,  darling,  will  fight  it  out  still." 
"Yes,"  I  replied,  "I  will  always  fight  with  you  and  for 
you,  and  the  Lord's  arm  is  not  shortened  that  it  can  not 
save,  nor  his  ear  heavy  that  it  can  not  hear."  "  That's  it, 
you  have  it,"  was  his  emphatic  response. 

It  was  now  about  eleven  o'clock.     Spencer  came  in 

18 


274 


JAMES  S.  DICKEKSON. 


LAST  DAYS. 


275 


L 


and  said  he  would  sit  up  until  four  o'clock,  so  I  lay  on 
the  bed  by  the  side  of  the  dear  one;  lay  there  for  the  last 
time.  O,  the  a^ony  of  those  hours  none  but  God  can 
know.  I  tried  to  be  calm,  tried  to  speak  cheerfully  and 
even  hopefully,  when  I  knew  that  in  a  few  hours,  or  a 
few  days  at  the  farthest,  the  sweet  spirit  would  be  gone. 
How  sick  and  sunken  and  emaciated  he  looked,  and  yet 
how  beautiful  was  the  smile  on  his  face,  how  sweet  the 
loving  words  that  came  from  his  lips,  how  natural  his 
voice!  *  *  *  He  took  nourishment  of  different  kinds 
through  the  night,  and  slept  some,  but  was  not  refreshed. 
Toward  morning  he  grew  very  restless,  and  he  said  he 
was  not  sleeping  when  we  thought  he  was,  but  was 
thinking  of  various  things.  He  talked  of  Heaven,  and 
of  heavenly  things,  and  seemed  calm  and  happy.  He 
told  me  about  many  matters  and  what  I  should  do  when 
he  was  gone.  Among  other  things  he  said,  "  I  know  it 
will  be  hard  and  sad  foryoM,  darlirjg,  but  try  to  be  cheer- 
ful, try  to  be  hopeful,  and  remember  that  I  shall  be 
waiting  to  greet  you  on  the  other  side." 

I  asked  him  once,  "  Do  you  feel  happy  ?."  "O  yes," 
he  replied;  and  I  added,  "  But  you  do  feel  disappointed." 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  do  somewhat;  but  Christ  is  precious ^ 
I  asked,  "Would  you  like  to  have  me  send  for  Dr. 
Cheney  ?  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  talk  with  him." 
He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  No,  that  work 
has  all  been  done.  Just  give  me  air,  and  Christ  will  do 
all  the  rest."  I  said  to  him,  "  Do  you  feel  that  you  are 
almost  home,  and  can  you  see  the  pearly  gates  ? "  He 
looked  up,  and,  with  a  heavenly  smile  illuminating  his 
face,  he  said,  "Ah,  darling!  I  have  lived  near  them  for 
a  long  time."  To-day,  as  the  children  were  singing 
sweet  hymns  in  the  parlor,  he  said,  "  O,  the  gospel,  the 
gospel!    what  an  honor  to  be  permitted  to  preach  it  I" 


And  then  the  tears  would  fill  his  eyes  as  he  said,  "  O, 
how  I  would  love  to  preach  again!"  but  immediately 
added,  as  though  that  might  seem  like  repining,  "  But 
it's  all  right,  all  right;  the  Lord  does  not  need  me,  and 
the  good  work  is  rolling  on."  He  tries  to  sing  some  of 
the  dear  old  hymns  himself,  but  soon  begins  to  cough, 
and  has  to  give  it  up.  The  other  day  I  noticed  a  dis- 
appointed look  on  his  face  when  he  found  he  could  not 
sing  the  hymn  Lyte,  beginning, 

Jesus,  lliy  name  I  love, 

All  other  names  above. 

Jesus,  my  Lord, — 

I  said  to  him,  "  I  am  sorry  you  can  not  sing  that.  I 
will  get  the  children  to  sing  it  for  you."  "  No,"  he  said, 
"  the  piano  disturbs  me  now,  and  I  can  think  it  over,  if 
I  can  not  sing  it.  I  sometimes  wonder  why  the  Lord 
keeps  me  on  this  sick-bed,  when  I  feel  that  I  might  be 
working  for  Him,  and  doing  something  for  His  cause, 
and  for  the  paper;  but  He  knows  why  it  is,  and  I  will 
try  to  submit  cheerfully,  and  lie  here  as  long  as  He 
wants  me  to,  and  feel  that  it  is  all  right."  In  dictating 
a  letter  to  a  friend  a  short  time  before  this,  he  said,  "  It 
is  so  much  easier  to  be  out  fighting  for  the  Lord  than 
to  lie  here  cheerfully  submitting  to  His  will." 

Many  times  these  past  few  weeks  he  has  sung,  "  Over 
Jordan,"  and  has  repeatedly  asked  us  to  sing  it  at 
family  worship;  but  it  always  made  me  sad  and  filled  my 
heart  with  sorrowful  forebodings. 

Tuesday^  March  21.  I  sent  immediately  after  break- 
fast for  an  old  and  dear  friend,  as  1  thought  the  end 
might  be  near,  and  I  wanted  some  one  of  experience 
with  me.  What  a  great  change  had  come  over  him 
during  the  night!      His  hope   was  gone,  and  he  sank 


( 


276 


JAMES  8.  DICKERSON. 


immediately.  As  I  was  eating  a  little  breakfast  near 
him,  he  said,  "Have  you  telegraphed  for  Grace  ?"  (Mrs. 
Van  Dusen.)  "  Ves,"  I  replied,  '*  and  for  Mr.  Good- 
man, too."  "  O,  I  am  glad,"  he  said,  "  I  should  love  to 
see  them  both."  "  Do  you  feel  that  you  are  almost 
there  .^"  I  said.  "  Yes,  darling,  and  Jesus  is  very  near." 
I  tried  to  speak  calmly  as  I  said, "  It  will  soon  be  all 
joy  to  you,  darling;  you  will  have  no  more  pain,  no 
more  trouble;  it  will  not  be  hard  to  breathe  in  the 
heavenly  air.  There  are  many  waiting  there  to  greet 
you;  Julia  and  Ada,  and  the  dear  little  children."  He 
seemed  glad  that  I  could  talk  in  this  way,  and  imme- 
diately added,  "  Yes,  and  my  father  and  your  father,  and 
many  others."  And  then,  with  a  wonderful  -  smile 
overspreading  his  countenance,  he  said,  "  Yes,  Pve  been 
over  the  roll-call,  and  see  a  great  many  there."    *    *    * 

I  had  cried  a  sfreat  deal  duriii":  the  ni<rht  and  after 
breakfast,  and  I  had  been  praying  that  I  might  be  able 
to  comfort  him,  make  his  last  hours  more  happy,  and 
not  speak  so  much  of  my  sorrow,  my  broken  heart.  I 
said  to  myself,  "  I  can  not  keep  him — he  is  surely  going 
home,  and  he  can  not  make  my  grief  lighter;  but  I  can 
make  his  last  hours  somewhat  brighter,  if  I  keep  calm, 
and  I  will  try  to  do  so."  About  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morninor,  as  I  sat  near  him,  I  heard  a  bird  singrinor  out 
of  doors.  The  windows  were  wide  open,  the  morning 
clear  and  bright,  but  very  cold,  and  as  I  looked  out  at 
the  sunshine,  T  thought  I  would  say,  "  This  is  a  beautiful 
day  to  go;"  but,  checking  myself,  I  said,  "What  a 
bright,  beautiful  morning  this  is!  Do  you  hear  that  bird 
singing?"  That  expression  seemed  to  gladden  his  heart 
at  once,  and  he  replied,  "  Yes,  I  hear  it,  and  those  are 
cheerful  words,  darling;  I  love  to  hear  that." 

He  had  rather  dreaded  to  have  his  old  friend  come  in, 


LAST  DAYS. 


277 


for  fear,  I  presume,  that  she  would  cry,  and  speak  of 
the  terrible  sadness  of  his  going,  and  yet  he  did  want 
to  see  her;  so,  when  she  came  toward  him,  he  put 
out  his  hand,  and  said,  "Good  morning,  Anna,  I  am 
glad  you  have  come."  Then  added,  slowly  and  emphat- 
ically, "Jesus  is  here,  and  it's  all  right."  Not  long 
after  her  coming  he  asked  her  to  come  to  him,  and, 
as  she  bent  near  him,  he  thanked  her  for  all  her 
kindness,  and  speaking  a  few  words  in  reference  to 
their  long  and  happy  acquaintance,  he  bade  her  good- 
bye, saying,  "  That  is  all  I  have  the  strength  to  say."  I 
then  said,  "While  you  feel  able,  would  you  not  like  to 
say  something  to  each  of  the  children,  and  to  us  all?" 
Very  quietly  he  replied,  "  Yes."  He  no  doubt  felt  that 
the  end  was  near,  and  yet  it  seemed  as  if  he  still  thought 
there  was  a  possibility  of  recovery;  for,  as  he  began  to 
speak  to  Willie,  he  said,  "  Willie,  my  boy,  my  dear  boy, 
they  tell  me  that  it  seems  as  if  I  were  coming  to  the 
end  (though  I  am  not  certain) — "  He  then  spoke  so 
sweetly,  so  lovingly  to  each  one,  saying  something 
appropriate  to  each  of  the  family,  and  to  sister  Fanny 
and  his  brother's  daughter,  who  were  with  us — words 
that  never  will  be  forgotten  by  any  of  them.  When 
dear  little  Gracie,  just  two  years  old,  was  brought  in  and 
sat  in  my  lap  by  thfe  head  of  the  bed,  her  father  turned 
toward  her  with  a  sweet  smile,  and  said,  "  Kiss  me, 
Gracie."  I  lifted  her  over,  and  he  kissed  her  twice,  and 
then,  in  her  cheery  little  voice  she  repeated  after  me, 
"  Dear  papa,  good-bye.  1  will  meet  you  in  heaven.  I 
will  love  Jesus  and  meet  you  there."  How  sweetly 
amid  the  gloom  and  sorrow  her  little  voice  sounded,  and 
how  lovely  her  father  looked  as  he  said,  "  God  bless  you, 
my  dear  little  child."  After  speaking  slowly  and  at 
some  length  to  each  one,  he  told  us  about  many  thino-s 


278 


JAMES  S.  DICKEKSON. 


i  ^ 


h 


he  wanted  us  to  do  and  then  said  to  Spencer,  his  oldest 
son,      \ou  will   understand  all  about  the   matters  with 
Mamma,  and  you  will  not  abuse  the  confidence,  I  know." 
And  then  he  sa.d  so  beautifully  to  them  all,  when  it  was 
becoming  very  difficult   for  him   to  speak,  "And   now. 
children  I  want  to  thank  dear,  blessed  mamina-and  I 
want  to  do  It  before  you  all -for  ail  her  love  and  care, 
bhe   has   been  an  angel  of  joy  and   light  to  us-dear, 
*W,.„.  awhen  I  am  gone,  she  will  need' 

■  k^n  t\  f  ''^  •'"'■'  ""'^  ^•''p  ''«^;  «"d  you  will,  I 

know!        His  face  shone  like  an  angel's  all  the  time  Le 

transfigured  before  us.     When  he  had  said  all  this,  he 

Wd    n,*    r  T^'  °/  P'"^"'-'  ''^^'""'"^'  "And  now. 
Lord,  my  strength  ,s  almost  gone."     I  can  not  recall  the 

httle,    to  which  he  replied,  "I  am,  and  it  is  so  hard  to 
get  my  breath."     The  children  went  to  dinner,  while  I 
stayed  with  him.    How  calm  he  was!  how  triumphant! 
how  he  rested  on  the  Lord !     Jesus  was  a  present  help 
■n  trouble      I  told  him  what  a  joyful  entrance  he  would 
have  to  the  heavenly  land ;  that  a  starry  crown  awaited 
him  there.    I  quoted  the  passage,  "  They  that  turn  many 
to  righteousness  shall  shine  as  the   stars  for  ever  and 
ever."     He  said,  "Don't  talk  so,  darling.     I  have  been 
very  unfaithful ;  but  Jesus  is  precious  " 

After  dinner,  the  children  gathered  around,  and  I 
asked  him  if  there  were  any  things  he  would  like  to  give 
to  them -"things  you  have  worn,"  I  said.  "O.ves" 
he  replied,  as  though  he  had  thought  of  it,  but  had  for- 
gotten to  speak  of  it.     He  then  gave  to  each  one  some- 

vouf'''"Th  J  '  ^°"  ""  '"*'^'^^'^  ^  ^^°  they  please 
IZ  „•  .  r  !^"*  messages  of  love  to  his  brothers 
and  sister,  his  uncle  and  aunt,  and  other  friends;   and 


LAST  DAYS. 


2T9 


after  a  little  while  he  said :  "  Is  there  any  thing  else  you 
would  like  to  ask  me  ?  You  must  try  to  think  now,  if 
there  is  any  thing  you  want  to  know  about.  Perhaps 
there  may  be  something  delicate  you  would  like  to  ask  ; 
if  there  is,  you  had  better  ask  it  now."  I  have  no  doubt 
he  was  thinking  of  his  funeral  and  burial,  but  we  could 
not  ask  him.     He  was  very  tired,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 

About  half-past  two.  Dr.  Everts  came  in,  and  sat  down 
near  him.     "When  Mr.  Dickerson  awoke  and  recognized 
him,    he    extended    his    cold    hand   to   him,    but    for   a 
moment  did  not  speak.    Dr.  Everts  made  a  few  remarks, 
when  Mr.  Dickerson  said  :  "  My  breath  is  very  short,  and 
this  is  a  sudden  change,  doctor."     Dr.  Everts  then  knelt 
by  the  bed,  and  offered  a  short,  fervent  prayer,  asking 
the  Lord  to  be  with  him  as  he  went  down  to  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  support  him,  and  put  underneath 
him    His    everlasting   arms — to    which    Mr.   Dickerson 
responded  "Amen,  amen."     A  few  moments  after.  Dr. 
Everts  asked  him  if  he  had  any  message  to  leave  for  his 
brethren  in  the  ministry.     He  was  silent  for  an  instant, 
and  then  said,  very  distinctly :  "  Tell  them  to  stand  for 
God   and    the   Baptists,  for    Christ  and   ffis  truth,   a 
spiritual  church."     The  second  clause   he  uttered  em- 
phatically as  an  explanation  of  the  first ;  his  good  sense. 
Dr.  Everts  remarked,  suggested   it,  for  fear  that  some 
might  call  him  bigoted,  although  the  two  had  the  same 
meaning  to  him.     Soon  after,  he  took  a  little  wine  whey, 
and  I  placed  him  in  a  comfortable  position,  readjusted 
the  pillows,  and  took  his  hand  and  sat  down  by  him. 
I  asked,  "  Is  there  any  thing  more  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 
With  a  sweet  smile  upon  his  face,  and  looking  as  though 
he   already  caught  glimpses   of   a   brighter   world,  he 
answered,  "No,  darling,  all  is  lovely."     That  was  the 
last  sentence  he  uttered,  except  when  he  said,  "  Lift  me 


280 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


LAST  DAYS. 


281 


(f 


higher."     In  trying  to  take  some  nourishment  a  little 
while  after  this,  he  had  a  great  struggle  for  breath,  and 
seemed  in  agony,  when  I  offered  a  little,  fervent  prayer, 
"Help  him  now,  dear  Savior,  and  make  it  easy  for  him," 
to  which  he  responded  "Amen,  amen."     Shortly  after, 
he  was  in  great  distress,  and  asked  me  to  lift  him  up! 
I  raised  his  head  a  little,  but  he  said,  "Lift  me  higher, 
higher,  higher,"  and  with  his  cold,  stiff  arms  extended,  1 
lifted  him   upright  in  the  bed,  got  pillows  behind  him, 
rested  his  dear  head  on  my  bosom,  and  felt  that  the  end 
was  near.     For  one  instant  a  terrible,  distressing  look, 
like  a  dark  shadow,  came   upon  his  face,  and  — he  was 
speechless.     But  he  could  hear  what  I  said  to  him,  and 
saw  that  all  his  dear  ones  were  about  him.     T  repeated 
many  comforting  passages  of  scripture,  and   he  would 
move  his  head  or  press  my  hand  so  that  I  understood 
that  he  heard  me.     These,  among  others,  gave  him  com- 
fort:  "Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  r  will  fear  no  evil,  for  Thou  art  with  me.  Thy 
rod  and  Thy  staff  they  comfort  me."     "  Eye   hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart 
of  man,  the  things  that  are  laid  up  for  the  children  of 
God."    "J  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
world."     "I  will  ?iever  leave   thee,  nor  forsake  thee." 
He  seemed  to  love  to  hear  them,  and  a  sweet  peace  and 
a  happy  look  overspread  his  countenance.     Then  I  re- 
peated hymns  that  he  loved  : 

Jesus  can  make  a  dyin^?  bed 

As  soft  as  downy  pillows  are, 
While  on  His  breast  I  lay  my  head, 

And  breathe  my  life  out  sweetly  there. 
And  another : 

There  is  a  land  of  Dure  delight. 

Where  saints  immortal  reign, 
Eternal  day  excludes  the  night, 

And  pleasures  banish  pain. 


I  repeated  most  of  that,  and,  as  I  asked,  "  Do  you 
hear  me,  darling  ?  Shall  T  say  more  ?  "  he  would  press 
my  hand  as  a  sign  that  he  wanted  me  to.  He  kept  doing 
so,  as  I  repeatedly  asked  him,  until  I  could  just  feel  the 
quiver  of  one  finger.  I  said  to  him,  "  You  are  almost 
there.     Jesus  will  soon  take  you  ;  you  will 

"  Rest  your  weary  feet 
By  the  crystal  waters  sweet. 
When  the  peaceful  shores  you'll  greet. 
Over  Jordan. 

"  You  will  soon  be  over,  darling.  '  In  My  Father's 
house  are  many  mansions.  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for 
you ;  and  if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you,  I  will 
return  again  and  bring  you  to  myself,  that  where  I  am, 
there  ye  may  be  also.' "  One  of  his  favorite  hymns  was 
that  beginning, 

My  hope  is  built  on  nothing  less 
Thau  Jesus*  blood  and  righteousness. 

I  repeated  that  slowly  and  distinctly.  When  I  came 
to  the  last  stanza. 

His  oath,  his  covenant,  and  blood. 
Support  me  'neatli  the  'whelming  flood; 
When  all  around  my  soul  gives  way, 
lie  then  is  all  my  hope  and  stay; 
On  Christ,  the  solid  Rock,  I  stand  — 
All  other  ground  is  sinking  sand ; 

and  to  the  fourth  line  : 

He  then  is  all  my  hope  and  stay, 

I  could  feel  that  he  made  a  great  effort  to  let  me  know 
that  he  heard  and  filt  them.  I  kr.ow  that  he  experienced 
then  that  Christ  was  his  hope  and  stay ;  I  know  that 
underneath  him  were  the  everlasting  arms.  His  head 
still  rested  sweetly  and  lovingly  on  my  bosom,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  he  were  conscious  as  I  kissed  his  dear  fore- 


r-*-* 


•nnMaiitll 


I 


282 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


head,  and  the  children  came,  one  by  one,  and  kissed  him, 
that  dear,  loving  ones   were   very  near   him,  trying  to 
comfort  him,  trying  to  cheer  him,  as  he  started  alone  on 
that  last  journey ;  and,  T  have  no  doubt,  he  saw  angel 
forms  and  loving  arms  extended,  ready  to  welcome  him 
to    his    heavenly    home.     We    tried  to   sing  "  Rock   of 
Ages,"  thinking  he  might  still  hear  our  voices ;  but  we 
could  not  get  through  one  verse.     I  repeated   the  re- 
mainder of  it  to  him  ;  but  how  I  could  do  it,  how  I  had 
the  power  to  say  all  I  did,  when  my  heart  was  agonized 
and  breaking —  when  my  idol  was  vanishing  from  my 
sight— I  can  account  for  in  no  other  way  than  this:  the 
Lord  helped  me  to  choke  buck  the  tears  and  the  groans, 
and  to  cheer  and  comfort  him  till  the  last.     When  I  had 
finished  this  last  verse, 

While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
Wlien  mine  eyelids  close  in  death, 
When  I  rise  to  worlds  unknown, 
See  Thee  on  Thy  judgment  throne, 
Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  — 

we  could  scarcely  see  him  breathing,  and,  a  moment 
after,  he  was  gone.  The  Lord  had  answered  the  prayer 
in  that  hymn.  There  was  no  struggle,  no  gasping,  ap- 
parently no  pain.  He  simply  stopped  breathing  — fell 
asleep  in  Jesus.  Those  pearly  gates  had  been  opened, 
and  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the  wonders  of  that  beauti- 
ful Home,  of  which  he  had  often  preached  and  talked, 
and  was  near  Jesus,  I  know,  and  praising  Him  for  His 
love  and  His  salvation.  B\it—tne  were  here.  "  My  idol 
had  vanished,  my  earth-star  fled." 

The  following  account  of   the  burial   service  is 
taken  from  the  Standard  of  March  30,  1876 : 


FUNERAL  SERVICES. 


283 


The  funeral  of  Dr.  Dickerson  took  place  on  Friday, 
24th  inst.,  at  the  First  Baptist  Church.  A  brief  service 
was  held  at  the  house,  previous  to  the  departure  for  the 
church,  prayer  being  offered  by  Dr.  Dickerson's  editorial 
associate.  A  considerable  number  of  sympathizing 
friends  had  assembled  at  the  residence  of  the  familv,  to 
accompany  them  to  the  church,  among  whom  were  sev- 
eral Baptist  ministers  of  the  city.  The  pall-bearers  were 
Revs.  Leroy  Church,  T.  W.  Goodspeed,  J.  M.  Whitehead, 
J.  Donnelley,  Jr.,  F.  G.  Thearle,  and  J.  A.  Smith.  A 
bitter  and  driving  storm  came  up  as  the  hour  for  public 
service  approached  ;  yet,  upon  the  arrival  of  the  funeral 
cortege  at  the  church,  a  large  number  was  found  as- 
sembled, indicating,  in  the  circumstances,  the  warm 
regard  in  which  Dr.  Dickerson  was  held,  and  the  sym- 
pathy felt  for  those  so  sadly  bereaved.  Besides  the 
immediate  family  of  Dr.  Dickerson,  the  group  of  mourn- 
ers included  his  brother,  T.  S.  Dickerson,  Esq.,  with 
members  of  his  family  ;  a  sister,  Mrs.  Van  Dusen,  of  New 
York  ;  and  Mrs.  Richardson,  mother  of  Mrs.  Dickerson, 
and  widow  of  the  late  Prof.  Richardson,  of  the  University 
of  Rochester. 

As  the  procession  entered  the  room  in  which  the 
audience  were  assembled,  a  chant  was  sung  by  the  choir. 
The  prayer  of  invocation  having  been  offered  by  Dr. 
Northrup,  who  read  in  connection  the  Ninetieth  Psalm, 
the  choir  sang  the  hymn,  "Rock  of  Ages,''  a  favorite 
with  Dr.  Dickerson,  and  sung  to  him  shortly  before  he 
breathed  his  last.  Dr.  Everts,  the  pastor  by  whom  Dr. 
Dickerson  had  been  baptized  in  his  youth,  and  who  had 
ever  since  been  his  trusted  friend  and  counselor,  ad- 
dressed the  assembly,  dwelling  largely  upon  the  early 
Christian  experience  of  the  deceased,  with  incidents  of 
his  life,  and  the  more  marked  features  of  his  character. 


284 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


We  may  copy  here  the  closing  words  of  Dr. 
Everts'  address  : 

He  came  to  this  city  apparently  to  die.  Still  it  is  not 
a  lost  experience,  even  to  us ;  for  it  is  a  great  thing  to 
see  a  Christian  die,  and  the  experience  of  death,  a^  it 
came  to  him,  was  a  most  blessed  spiritual  reality.  Death 
is  naturally  an  enemy  to  us,  but  faith  in  Christ  can  con- 
quer even  this  last  enemy. 

Death  came  to  our  brother  through  a  long  sickness 
and  through  much  suffering.  His  health  was  poor  from 
the  first,  and  he  often  thought  he  should  be  obliged  to 
leave  the  pulpit  on  account  of  it.  Still  there  was  no 
complaining  on  his  part,  and  he  died  very  peacefully 
and  calmly.  Even  durinr-  his  sickness,  his  words  were 
always  hopeful  and  encouraging  — to  his  friends,  his 
pastor,  and  all.  His  death  may  be  regarded  as  a  com- 
plete Christian  triumph.  But  he  still  lives  with  the 
Lord,  and  has  only  gone  before. 

Dr.  Cheney,  who  followed,  spoke  especially  of  his 
acquaintance  with  Mr.  Dickerson  during  his  resi- 
dence in  Philadelphia,  dwelling  at  some'^length  on 
the  qualities  of  character  he  had  noted  in  him 
during  the  many  years  of  their  intimate  acquaint- 
ance and  friendship  : 

Catholic  and  kind  as  he  was,  he  at  the  same  time  was 
thoroughly  loyal  to  hi3  own  denomination.  He  was  not 
a  Baptist  from  mere  sentiment,  but  from  honest  convic- 
tion and  deliberate  choice.  As  a  student  of  the  Bible 
he  had  thoroughly  mastered  the  great  principles  he 
preached,  and  for  their  maintenance  he  was  ready  to 
risk  his  all.  If  any  desired  greater  liberty  than  the 
Bible  gives  in  regard  to  church  polity  or  ordinances, 


FUNERAL  SERVICES. 


285 


they  found  in  him  no  countenance  or  support.  He  loved 
his  denomination  with  a  love  stronger  than  death. 

But,  in  looking  over  his  public  life,  we  are  also 
impressed  with  the  versatility  of  his  talents.  We  have 
seen  him  as  a  business  man,  and  he  was  at  home  in  the 
walks  of  business.  As  an  editor,  he  made  a  readable 
paper.  His  editorials  were  never  dull ;  they  were 
bright  and  sparkling  —  often  vigorous  and  strong. 
As  a  preacher,  he  was  always  true  to  his  principles, 
always  sought  to  lead  his  people  to  "search  the  Scrip- 
tures." I  think  he  used  illustrations  freely,  and  there 
were  frequent  passages  in  his  sermons  of  great  pathos 
and  tenderness.  As  a  platform  speaker  he  was  peerless. 
His  racy  anecdote,  his  genial  humor,  his  ready  repartee, 
gave  him  power  over  an  audience.  But  perhaps  more 
than  anywhere  else  he  shone  in  social  life  as  a  pastor 
among  his  people.  The  old  and  the  young,  the  rich  and 
the  poor  alike  found  in  him  a  true,  loving,  faithful  friend. 
While  he  was  the  light  and  the  life  of  every  social  circle 
he  entered,  still  he  was  everywhere  the  Christian  and 
the  Christian  minister.  No  wonder  that  his  people  loved 
him,  or  that  he  held  so  large  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  his 
brethren  in  the  ministry. 

In  speaking  of  his  public  life  and  labors,  I  must  not 
fail  to  emphasize  his  great  love  for  his  work.  Next  to 
his  love  of  the  gospel,  he  loved  to  preach  that  gospel ; 
or,  if  this  privilege  was  denied  him,  he  loved  any  work 
for  Christ  and  His  church.  Scarcely  have  I  seen  him 
once  during  all  the  period  of  his  sufferings,  that  he  has 
not  talked  with  me  of  the  "  precious  gospel,"  and  of  the 
"precious  privilege"  of  telling  it  to  others.  Though  it 
cost  him  a  great  struggle  to  leave  the  pulpit  with  the 
conviction  that  he  had  no  reasonable  hope  of  returning 
to  it,  still  the  hope  of  working  for  Christ  and  truth  in 


286 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


this  field,  I  doubt  not,  sustained  him  weeks  and  even 
months  when  his  frail  earthly  tabernacle  was  tottering 
to  the  fall.  Even  the  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  was  full 
of  his  chosen  theme  of  work  for  Christ.  "  We  shall  yet 
do  service  together,"  he  said,  "  for  the  Master  whom  we 
love  so  well."  But  when  this  hope  of  farther  usefulness 
left  him,  his  hold  of  life  was  loosened,  and  he  entered, 
we  doubt  not,  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord. 

The  closing  prayer  was  then  offered  by  Dr.  Moss, 
President  of  the  State  University  of  Indiana.  The 
lid  was  taken  from  the  casket;  friends  looked  for 
the  last  time  at  the  serene,  composed  face  ;  and  the 
beloved  one  was  then  borne  away  to  his  resting- 
place  in  Oak  wood  Cemetery. 

Among  tributes,  additional  to  those  already  given 
in  this  volume,  we  may  take  for  insertion  here  the 
following,  from  an  editorial  article  in  the  Standard, 
After  alluding  to  various  particulars  of  his  life,  which 
need  not  here  be  repeated,  the  article  proceeds : 

We  need  not  dwell  longer  upon  these  details.  A  life 
so  active  and  so  rich  in  results  abounds  in  biographical 
material,  but  our  failing  space  warns  us  to  be  brief.  Dr. 
Dickerson  came  to  Chicago,  and  the  place  that  he  hoped 
to  fill  on  the  Standard^  in  the  same  spirit  that  had  ruled 
his  whole  life.  It  was  his  wish  and  intention  that  the 
religious  journal  should  be  to  him  very  much  what  the 
pulpit  had  been,  affording,  perhaps,  less  opportunity  for 
immediate  contact  and  for  specific  results,  yet  having  in 
view  the  same  ends,  with  a  scope  far  wider  and  in  some 
respects  more  potential.  His  associates  in  the  Standard 
had  looked  to  his  coming  with  unusual  interest  and 
expectation,  and  during  the  few  weeks  that  he  was  able 


FUNERAL  SERVICES. 


287 


to  come  to  the  office  had  increasing  reason  to  feel  that 
he  was  certain  to  be  in  every  way  a  great  accession  to 
their  force.      His  enterprising    spirit   gave   spring  and 
impulse,  even  under  the  disadvantageous  circumstances 
which,  in  some  respects,  were  so  disappointing  to  him 
and  to  us,  while  every  contribution  of  editorial  matter, 
though  written  often  upon  his  bed,  and  while  tortured 
with  pain  and  oppressed  with  the  languor  of  long  and 
wearisome  confinement,  was  marked  by  his  well-known 
qualities  of    nervous    energy  and  practical   adaptation. 
He  always  had  words  of  cheer  for  his  associates  when 
they  visited  him,  and  his  counsels  in  the  management  of 
the  paper  were  invariably  judicious  and  manly.     It  was 
his  wish  that  this  paper  should  be  always  firm,  consistent, 
loyal  to  the  truth,  just  in  all  its  measures  toward  what- 
ever partv  or  interest,  and,  at  the  same  time,  such  in  its 
spirit  as  a  Christian  journal  ought  to  be.     What  he  was 
accustomed  to  advise,  in  these  respects,  was  in  substance 
expressed  in  one  of  his  latest  sayings,  when  asked  by 
Dr.  Everts  if   he   had  any  message   for  his   brethren: 
"Tell  them,"  was  his  reply,  'Hell  them  to  sta.id  for  God 
and  the  Baptists— for  Christ  and  His  truths     Uncon. 
sciously,  he  had  uttered,  in  this,  the  motto  of  his  whole 

career. 

We  do  not  attempt,  here,  any  detailed  analysis  of  Dr. 
Dickerson's  character.  The  sketch  we  have  already 
given  abounds  with  suggestions  to  that  end,  and  may 
safely  be  left  to  make  its  own  impression  and  tell  its 
own  tale.  With  singular  kindness  of  spirit  Dr.  Dicker- 
son  united  remarkable  decision  and  firmness.  His  sense 
of  justice,  his  apprehension  of  truth  as  truth,  were  quick 
and  clear,  and  these  alone  he  accepted  as  the  guides  to 
conduct.  As  a  Christian  he  was  spiritual,  devout,  trust- 
ing—a child  of  God  in  the  best  sense  of   the  word. 


288 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


289 


Spiritual  things,  to  him,  were  both  real  and  precious  ;  he 
lived  in  the  strength  and  the  joy  of  them,  while  the 
experience  of  them  was,  in  all  his  work,  a  constant  in- 
spiration.    As  a  friend  he  was  true  as  steel  ;  he  did  not 
know  what  it  was  to  be  any  man's  enemy,  and,  where  he 
differed   or  disapproved,  always   sought   to   judge  with 
charity,  to  he  generous  so  far  as  he  could  without  ceasing 
to  be  just.     In  his  own  family  he  was  loved  as  such  a 
man   could  not  fail   to  be,  and  he  is  now  missed  and 
mourned  with  a  sorrow  unspeakable.     During  his  long 
and  painful  illness  he  has  invariably  received  from  them, 
especially  on    the    part  of    his    wife,  all    those    loving, 
tender,  and  skillful  offices  which  do  so  much  to  relieve 
and  help.    The  sympathy  of  his  brethren  throughout  the 
country  he  knew  he  had,  and  it  has  been  to  him  a  source 
of  exceeding  comfort.     Above  all,  the  presence  of  the 
dear  Savior  has  been  a  light  to  him  in  the  dark  niffht 
and  a  brighter  sunshine  in  the  cheerful  day,  and  in  that 
faithful  bosom  his  weary  head  rested  as  he  died. 

Memorial  services  were  held  on  the  following 
Wednesday,  March  29,  in  his  old  church  in  Boston, 
in  which  the  Rev.  Drs.  Geo.  C.  Lorimer,  A.  Pollard, 
and  E.  K.  Alden  took  a  part.  The  house  was  draped 
in  crape  and  trimmed  with  flowers,  and  in  front  of 
the  pulpit  was  a  life-size  crayon  portrait  of  the 
deceased.  The  church  was  filled  to  its  utmost 
capacity  by  Dr.  Dickerson's  friends. 


IN    MEMORIAM. 

Remarks  of  Rev.  Geo.  C.  Larimer^  2>.i>.,  on  the  death 
of  Rev.  J.  S.  Dickerson,  D.D ,  delivered  in  the 
South  Baptist   Church,  Boston,  March  29,  1876: 

Now  kindred  merit  fills  the  sable  bier, 
Now  lacerated  Friendship  claims  a  tear; 
Year  chases  year,  decay  pursues  decay. 
Still  drops  some  joy  from  withering  life  away. 

The  spirit  of  these  lines  has  invoked  and  gathered  the 
solemn  multitude  who  throng  this  sacred  edifice  to-night. 
We  see  as  a  matter  of  fact  that  death  has  a  universal 
empire.  The  world  may  have  made  great  progress  since 
the  days  of  our  grandfathers  and  fathers.  We  may  have 
better  government,  larger  and  more  widely  diffused 
knowledge,  better  and  juster  laws,  a  larger  amount  of 
happiness  for  the  greater  number.  I  hope  and  believe 
that,  with  some  serious  reservations,  this  is  the  case. 
Let  us  thank  God  for  it.  But  the  frontiers  of  life  do 
not  change  with  the  generations  of  men,  as  do  its 
attendant  circumstances.  We  are  born  and  we  die  just 
as  our  rudest  ancestors  ;  nevertheless,  each  fresh  experi- 
ence of  this  truth  fills  us  with  a  nameless  melancholy, 
and  the  tear  unbidden  falls  on  "  lacerated  friendship." 
Especially  must  we  weep  when  the  insatiate  archery  of 
death  marks  one  who  lived  not  for  himself,  but,  turning 
from  the  strifes  of  the  world,  the  allurements  of  office, 
and  the  passion  for  gain,  consecrated  his  life  to  the 
pursuit  of  excellence,  to  beneficent  labor,  and  to  the  un- 
dying interests  of  the  soul. 

Froude  regrets  that  Protestants  have  no  saints,  regard- 
ing, as  he  does,  the  canonization  of  the  loftier  among 
18 


290 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


those  who  have  toiled  and  died  as  advantageous  to  those 
who  yet  survive.  Evidently,  the  historian  has  fallen  into 
a  grievous  error.  We  have  our  saints,  but  they  are 
God-fashioned,  not  man-manpfactured.  This  is  the  only 
difference  between  Romanists  and  ourselves.  Grace 
molds  those  whom  we  honor,  and  we  merely  honor  and 
venerate  them  —  we  never  worship  even  the  transfigured 
human  ;  and  the  love  of  our  hearts,  not  Papal  bull  or 
sacerdotal  ordinance,  beatifies  them  to  the  children  of 
time  forever. 

We  have  our  saints.  Their  names  may  be  unknown, 
their  position  in  the  church  may  have  been  obscure,  and 
their  resting-places  in  the  valley  may  be  unmarked  by 
monument ;  but  their  faces  shine  throuofh  the  mist  from 
the  other  shore,  and  their  example,  speechless  but  elo- 
quent in  its  silence,  pleads  with  us  to  follow  where 
their  footprints  mark  in  the  sands  of  time  the  way  to 
Heaven.  In  our  calendar,  the  mothers  who  inspired  us, 
the  fathers  who  admonished  us,  the  friends  who  sustained 
us,  and  the  disciples  who  cherished  us,  have  an  honored 
place.  And  among  them,  distinguished  for  consecrated 
learning  and  sanctified  living,  are  the  men  whom  the 
suffrages  of  free  churches  exalted  to  the  rank  of  leaders 
and  pastors.  These  are  the  saints  we  venerate  —  a  goodly 
company,  embracing  in  their  ample  fellowship  not  only 
the  Luthers,  the  Hubmeyers,  the  Powells,  the  Fleet- 
woods, and  the  Bunyans,  but  the  Staughtons,  the  Kemp- 
ers,  the  Wallers,  the  Baldwins,  the  Waylands,  the  Fullers, 
and  the  Dickersoxs  as  well. 

It  was  the  custom  in  ancient  Rome,  a  practice  revived 
in  some  of  the  ceremonies  of  modern  Papacy,  to  bring 
forward  the  images  of  departed  friends,  beautifully 
arrayed  in  all  the  emblems  of  their  official  dignity, 
while  some  one  related  the  story  of  their  achievements, 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


291 


in  the  hopes  of  quickening  emulation  on  the  part  of  the 
living.  But  we  need  no  sculptured  image  to  restore  to 
memory  the  face  of  him  whose  death  calls  us  together 
this  evening.  It  is  graven  in  our  hearts  ;  and  his  name 
alone,  without  a  single  word  of  eulogy,  awakens  a  re- 
sponse which,  like  the  far-famed  echo  of  Dodona,  will 
prolong  itself  throughout  the  weary  day  of  our  pilgrim- 
age. Yet,  it  may  be  well,  not  for  his  glory  but  for 
our  own  good,  if  we  meditate  for  a  little  season  on  his 
example  as  a  lowly  and  dying  servant  of  lofty  and  un- 
dying truth. 

James  S.  Dickerson  was  born  in  1825,  and,  in  the  city 
of  New  York,  at  the  early  age  of  fourteen,  surrendered 
his  heart  to  the  Savior.  This  important  decision  was 
reached  through  the  influence  and  labors  of  Elder  Jacob 
Knapp  ;  and  for  the  great  evangelist  he  entertained  a 
life-long  affection.  In  after  years,  when  malice  or  envy 
sought  to  detract  from  the  well-earned  fame  of  Mr. 
Knapp,  Mr.  Dickerson,  however  unpopular  it  might 
make  him  with  a  certain  class  of  professors,  never  hesi- 
tated to  espouse  his  cause  and  vindicate  him  from  the 
accusations  of  his  enemies.  The  subject  of  this  notice 
was  baptized  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Everts,  who  by  a  happy 
providence  was  permitted  to  comfort  him  in  bis  suffer- 
ings, and  to  pronounce  over  his  remains  a  tribute  of 
Christian  and  ministerial  affection. 

Early  in  life,  young  Dickerson  devoted  himself  to 
business  pursuits,  winning  a  name  for  probity  and  indus- 
try. One  of  his  employers  said  quaintly  that  he  feared 
the  boy  would  never  succeed  in  trade,  his  honesty  was 
so  rugged  and  incorruptible.  Various  circumstances, 
his  natural  temperament,  and,  as  we  believe,  the  call  of 
God,  inclined  his  feet  to  the  path  thus  jestingly  pointed 
out.  In  consequence,  he  entered  Madison  University  in 
1842,  and  was  graduated  in  1848. 


I'  I 


292 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


Equipped  for  his  work,  you  may  judge  his  disappoint- 
ment when  it  was  found  that  his  voice  would  not  stand 
the  strain  of  pulpit  labors.  For  a  time  he  was  compelled 
to  abandon  his  cherished  desire  of  preaching  the  Word 
of  Life.  But  a  kindred  path  of  usefulness  opened  to 
him  in  connection  with  a  religious  paper,  the  Recorder^ 
of  New  York.  In  this  relation  he  remained  for  a  short 
time,  and  was  then  called  to  Philadelphia  to  manage  the 
affairs  of  the  Publication  Society.  Accepting  this  posi- 
tion he  soon  justified  the  choice  which  had  withdrawn 
him  from  a  less  responsible  sphere  of  usefulness.  The 
Society,  then  in  its  infancy,  grew  and  matured  under  his 
vigorous  administration  ;  and  has  since  become  in  every 
sense  of  the  word  a  truly  national  denominational  insti- 
tution, unifying  the  once  discordant  sections  of  our 
common  Zion. 

A  great  blessing  was  vouchsafed  Dr.  Dickerson  while 
engaged  in  these  labors.     His  voice  was  restored  to  him. 
This  he  interpreted  as  a  renewal  of  his  commission  to 
preach  the  Gospel.     Called  to  the  pastorate  of  a  church 
in  Wilmington,  Del.,  he  gave  full  proof  of  his  ministry 
and  was  rejoiced  by  the  conversion  of  over  three  hun- 
dred souls.     Here  it  was  that  his  devotion  to  the  temper- 
ance cause  became  conspicuous.     His  vivid  imagination 
perceived  the  blight  of  drunkenness,  and  in  glowing 
colors  he  exposed  its  deadly  effect,  not  only  on  religion, 
but  on  knowledge,  industry,  and  self-government  as  well. 
Many  amusing  incidents  are  related  of  his  stubborn  con- 
flict with  the  liquor  makers,  and  the  liquor  sellers.     In 
every  instance  he  v/as  more  than  a  match  for  his  adver- 
saries.     Their  denunciations   and  their  ridicule  never 
could    swerve    him    one    hair's    breadth    from    his   fixed 
resolution  to  fight  to  the  bitter  end  the  curse  of  intem- 
perance. 


IJSr  MEMORIAM. 


293 


While  residing  in  Delaware  the  civil  war  broke  out, 
which  ravaged  the  South,  and  sent  desolation  to  thou- 
sands of  homes  all  over  the  land.  From  the  very  first 
he  took  his  stand  on  the  side  of  the  Union.  A  national 
flag  he  placed  over  his  pulpit,  and  fearlessly  declared 
that  he  believed  it  represented  the  cause  of  liberty, 
justice  and  humanity.  It  should  triumph  ;  it  must  tri- 
umph ;  and  to  this  sacred  end  he  pledged  his  strength, 
his  zeal,  his  intellect  and  his  influence.  The  argument 
of  economy,  deemed  by  some  in  those  stormy  days  to 
contain  all  that  was  conclusive  to  guide  the  North  in  its 
policy  toward  the  South,  never  presented  itself  to  him. 
The  question  of  profit  and  loss,  in  his  judgment  and 
before  his  conscience,  was  absorbed  in  the  question  of 
right  and  wrong.  His  maxim  was,  "Anything  but  dis- 
union—  poverty  sooner  than  disunion."  Nor  could  he 
bring  himself  to  support  slavery,  but  believed  most 
heartily  that  neither  Christians,  nor  true  Republican  gov- 
ernments could  consistently  hold  their  fellow-beings  in 
bondage.  These  sentiments  exposed  him  to  obloquy  and 
calumny ;  but  he  was  immovable.  He  took  his  stand, 
and  though  friends  misunderstood  and  reproached  him, 
as  Luther  said  before  the  Imperial  Diet,  "  I  can  take  no 
other,"  so  he  could  only  wait  until  the  day  of  vindica- 
tion should  arrive.  "  Follow  my  white  plume,"  said  the 
knightly  monarch  of  France.  "  Follow  the  right,"  more 
glorious  than  waving  plume  or  oriflamme,  was  the  watch- 
word of  the  humble  preacher.  On  the  close  of  the  war, 
not  with  spiteful  and  malignant  spirit  did  he  pursue 
those  who  had  taken  up  arms  against  the  Government. 
He  longed  for  union — a  union  in  spirit  as  well  as  in  fact. 
He  was  anxious  that  the  closest  and  most  fraternal  rela- 
tions should  be  promoted  between  the  Baptists  of  the 
once   alienated   sections.      Frequently   in   conversation 


294 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON". 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


295 


with  me,  knowing  my  intense  desire  that  the  denomina- 
tion should  be  a  unit  in  its  benevolent  and  missionary 
operations,  did  he  express  his  sympathy  with  my  views, 
and  his  hearty  intention  when  the  proper  time*^  should 
arrive  to  do  all  within  his  power  to  facilitate  their  real- 
ization. 

From   Wilmington,  Dr.   Dickerson  removed  to  Pitts- 
burgh, where  his  labors  were  again  blessed  in  a  remark- 
able degree.      Serious  difficulties  which  imperilled  the 
church  he  was  instrumental  in  averting,  and  those  per- 
sons who  were  arrayed  against  each  other  he  succeeded 
in  reconciling.     It  is  needless  to  say  that  they  all  loved 
him,  and  regarded  him  as  a  brother  as  well  as  a  pastor. 
He  so  endeared  himself  to  the  congregation  and  to  Chris- 
tians of  other  faiths  that  when  he  signified  his  intention 
of  moving  to  Boston  it  caused  universal  sorrow.     But 
his  decision  was  reached  in  God's  fear,  and  the  devotion 
of  man  could  not  change  him.      He  came,  as  you  are 
aware,  to  your  church,  and  within  these  walls  his  labors 
as  a  pastor  ended.    What  he  was  to  you,  your  sorrow  wit- 
nesses; what  he  was  to  the  denomination  in  this  vicinity 
can  never  be  truly  estimated.     He  was  the  light  of  our 
ministers'    conferences,  the  ardent  supporter  of   every 
onward  movement,  and  the  friend  of  every  youth  leav- 
ing the  retreat  of  the  study  for  the  adversities  of  the 
field. 

I  met  him  for  the  first  time  in  this  city.  We  had 
entered  upon  our  pulpit  labors  here  during  the  same 
year,  preaching  our  first  sermons  as  pastors  on  the  same 
day,  and  naturally  this  circumstance  inclined  us  to  mutual 
confidence  and  intimacy.  1  was- warmly  attached  to  him, 
and  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  to  me. 
Frequently  have  we  spent  hours  together  in  friendly 
intercourse,  and  advised  with  each  other  regarding  those 


important  movements  in  which  we  were  called  to  bear  a 
part.  In  this  manner  I  became  so  fully  acquainted  with 
him  that  I  felt  sadly  bereaved  when  he  announced  to  me 
by  letter  his  intended  removal  to  Chicago.  You  know 
the  rest.  You  know  how  the  disease  which  developed 
here  proved  fatal  there.  You  know  how  intensely  your 
dear  pastor  suffered,  and  how  he  triumphed.  Christ  was 
with  him  through  all  the  weary  hours  of  bodily  agony, 
gave  him  bright  visions  of  the  Heavenly  Jerusalem,  and 
permitted  him  to  die  in  the  arms  of  his  kindred.  "  Lift 
me  up  !  Higher,  higher !  "  were  among  his  closing 
words,  symbolic  of  the  holy  aspiration  of  his  nature; 
and  while  those  around  him  tried  literally  to  comply 
with  his  request,  his  spirit  fled  higher,  far  higher  than 
mortal  strensrth  could  bear  it. 

Dr.  Dickerson  possessed  hardly  any  of  the  physical 
attributes  demanded  in  the  preacher  by  the  advocates  of 
muscular  Christianity.  His  soul  tabernacled  in  a  body 
that  was  little  more  than  a  vapor.  He  was  small  in 
stature  ;  but,  when  he  spoke,  his  person  dilated  with 
the  majesty  of  his  thoughts.  His  voice  was  soft  and 
musical,  not  loud  or  harsh  in  tone.  He  did  not  thunder 
or  lio-hten  in  his  speech.  Like  sunshine,  his  words 
descended  on  the  souls  of  his  hearers,  and  the  frozen 
were  thawed,  the  cold  were  warmed,  and  the  barren 
were  fertilized.  He  was  distinguished  for  genuineness. 
No  affectation  or  mannerism  disfigured  his  piety.  Manly 
in  his  bearing,  every  one  was  impressed  with  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  character.  He  was  true  to  God,  true  to  his 
friends,  and  true  to  himself. 

He  was  a  man  of  great  cheerfulness  and  of  ready  wit. 
I  have  seen  him  change  a  tempestuous  meeting  into  a 
blessed  calm,  by  some  bon  mot  or  quaint  saying.  Never 
at  a  loss  for  an  answer,  he  would  sometimes  give  to  an 


296 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


opponent  one,  which  not  only  disconcerted  him,  but 
which  carried  the  judgment  of  the  audience  against 
him.  In  the  last  letters  I  received  from  him,  when  in 
the  daily  endurance  of  great  suffering,  the  same  cheery, 
bright,  hopeful  spirit  which  distinguished  him  in  health 
could  be  discerned. 

It  is  not  claimed  that  Dr.  Dickerson  was  a  scholar 
He  was  a  cultivated  man,  but  he  did  not  devote  all  of 
his  time  to  study  or  to  literature.  Familiar  with  the 
classics,  he  was  fully  convinced  that  an  education 
founded  on  them  alone  would  necessarily  be  faulty.  Not 
to  the  frigid  philosophy  of  the  Porch,  nor  to  the  marvel- 
ous teachings  of  Socrates,  nor  to  the  resounding  line  of 
Homer  did  he  look  for  regenerating  influences,  but  to 
the  sacred  teachings  of  Christianity.  His  sentiments 
were  expressed  by  Cowper  many  years  ago : 

Sunk  in  Homer's  mine, 
I  lose  my  precious  years,  now  soon  to  fail ; 
Handling  his  gold,  which,  howsoe'er  it  shine, 
Proves  dross,  when  balanced  in  the  Christian' scale. 

He  was,  consequently,  a  faithful  student  of  the  Bible, 
and  a  sincere  teacher  of  its  truths.  His  devotion  to  this 
one  Book  made  him  a  very  positive  and  consistent 
Baptist.  He  was  not  sectarian  in  the  sense  that  his 
affections  were  all  absorbed  by  one  body,  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  others  ;  for  he  sincerely  loved  Christians  of 
every  name,  and  sympathized  with  Christ's  work  every- 
where ;  but  he  was  sectarian  in  the  sense  that  he 
believed  the  denomination  in  whose  membership  he 
enjoyed  a  place,  was  nearer  to  the  New  Testament 
standard  of  what  churches  should  be,  than  any  other. 

I  know  these  few  words  fail  to  do  justice  to  our  de- 
parted friend ;  but  they  may,  at  least,  as  a  faint  outline 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


297 


of  what  was  once  so  clear  and  vivid  to  us,  recall  some  of 
the  features  of  his  character.    He  has  gone  from  us,  and 
all  that  remains  to  us  of  his  excellence  is  enshrined  in 
memorv.     There  let  it  remain,  to  be  to  our  hearts  an 
inspiration,  and  to  our  feet  a  light.     This  church-house 
is  to  me  a  lonely  place  without  his  presence.     Never 
before  have   I  passed  up  this  aisle   without  a  greeting 
from  his  sunny  smile.     But  it  is  no  longer  here  to  wel- 
come me.      The  house  is  cheerless   and  sad.      Let  us, 
however,  rejoice  that  our  religion  is  the  religion  of  hope. 
Beneath  its  banner  we  march,  and  beneath  it  we  fight 
and  die.     So  we  may  indulge  the  hope,  amid  this  op- 
pressive gloom,  that  we  shall  meet  our  brother  by-and- 
bye,  when  the  old  smile  shall  be  restored,  and  when  its 
brightness  shall  welcome  us,  after  the  storms  of  this  life, 
to  the  peaceful  haven  of  the  life  to  come.     Christians 
never  say  "good-bye"  for  the  last  time.     There  are  no 
eternal  "farewells"  spoken   by  their   lips.     They  may 
go  out  from   each  other  in  the  evening,  and  one  may 
wander  for  years  o'er  the  rugged  mountains  of  earth, 
and  the  other  at  once  may  pitch  his  tent  on  the  plains 
of   Heaven  ;    but    they  shall   greet   each    other   in    the 
morning,  when  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shall  shine  upon 
his   church,   new-risen    from   the    dead,   and   decked  in 
bridal  splendor. 

In  this  dark  world  of  sin  and  pain, 
We  only  meet  to  part  again ; 
But  when  we  reach  the  heavenly  shore, 
We  there  shall  meet  to  part  no  more. 
The  hope  that  we  shall  meet  that  day 
Should  chase  our  present  griefs  away. 

We  insert  here  a  letter  from  Rev.  Dr.  E.  K. 
Alden,  now  Secretary  of  the  American  Board  of 
Commissioners  of  Foreign  Missions,  but  for  nearly 


298 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSOI^. 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


299 


fifteen  years  the  loved  and  honored  pastor  of  the 
Philhps  Church  (Congregational)  in  South  Boston, 
in  response  to  a  letter  asking  if  he  could  recall  his 
remarks  at  the  Memorial  Service  held  on  the  occa- 
sion of  Mr.  Dickerson's  death,  in  Boston : 

Boston,  May  16,  1877. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Dickerson  :    Your  letter  of  the  4th 

inst.  was  duly  received.     I  am  glad  there  is  to  be  a  per- 

manent  memorial  of  your  honored  and  beloved  husband 

Could   I  contribute  a  fraternal   word   to   the   memorial, 

which  would   be  of  any  worth,  most  cheerfully   would 

1  do  It.     But  It  is  quite  impossible  for  me  to  recall  or 

reproduce  what  came  spontaneously  from  my  heart,  when 

addressing  his  and  your  sympathizing  people  face  to  face, 

at  the  memorial  services  in  the   South  Baptist  Church 

Nor  IS  It  necessary.     It  is  enough  for  me  to  bear  my 

testimony  to  my  high  appreciation  of  the  character  which 

charmed   even    comparative   strangers,  and  drew  them 

toward  him  as  though  they  had  been  life-long  friends. 

This  IS  my  feeling  as  I  think  of  him,  and  cherish   his 

remembrance.     I  seem  to  have  known  him  always,  as  I 

always  hope  to  know  him.     I  was  prepared  to  love  him 

before  I  met  him,  having  heard  him  spoken  of  by  a 

mutual  friend  in  Pittsburgh.     But  the  first  grasp  of  his 

hand,   the   first  greeting    made    me   feel    that   we   were 

indeed  brothers  in  verity.     I  can  not  think  of  him  with- 

out  his  presence  rising  before  me  ;  there  was  so  much  in 

the  manner  difficult  to  describe,  needing  no  description 

for  those  who  knew  him,  which  made  him  so  ao-reeable  a 

companion.     To  meet  him  Sabbath  morning,  as  I  often 

did  — he  on  his  way  to  preach  Christ  to  his  flock,  his 

face  beaming  with  the  anticipated  joy ;  I  on  the  same 

delightful  errand  to  my  flock -was  a  benediction  for 
the  day. 


I  would  have  trusted  him  anywhere,  with  anything, 
with  perfect  confidence  that  it  would  be  utterly  impos- 
sible for  him  in  word,  act,  or  thought  to  betray  the  trust. 
Yet  there  was  something  about  your  beloved  husband 
which  impressed  me  more  and  more  as  I  knew  him 
better  and  occasionally  heard  him  speak,  which  made 
me  feel  that  there  was  a  heroic  soul  within  him  fighting 
against  a  somewhat  feeble  physical  frame  —  a  battle,  too, 
in  which  the  brave  inner  spirit  was  determined  not  to 
be  worsted.  How  fearful  that  conflict  was  during  the 
later  years  of  his  life,  1  did  not  know  until  he  had 
passed  away.  You,  and  possibly  some  others,  knew  it 
well.  I  can  not  think  of  him  without  the  tears  involun- 
tarily starting  in  my  eyes  as  I  remember  meeting  him 
on  a  certain  occasion  when,  it  is  plain  to  me  now,  he 
was  fighting  at  fearful  odds,  yet  with  a  purpose  which 
would  never  surrender. 

He  impressed  me  as  a  speaker  as  one  of  the  manliest 
of  vigorous  thinkers,  his  whole  being  borne  on  with  the 
grandeur  and  the  power  of  the  thoughts  which  had  taken 
possession  of  him. 

I  should  expect  him  to  maintain  his  ground  most 
resolutely  upon  any  point  upon  which  we  might  possibly 
have  differed,  and  to  have  loved  him  all  the  more,  and 
been  loved  by  him  all  the  more  for  our  conscientious 
difi'erenc^s. 

I  can  not  think  of  him  as  inactive  even  in  the  repose 
of  Heaven.  It  is  to  me  one  of  the  brightest  of  antici- 
pations to  think  of  such  spirits  as  his,  when  at  length 
they  are  released,  as  springing  with  a  bound  I  know  not 
to  what  heights  of  rapture,  to  what  intensities  of  unex- 
hausted  service.  O  glorious  hour !  when  without  let  or 
hindrance  or  any  such  thing,  the  spirit,  refined  and  beau- 
tified by  the  discipline  of  earth,  shall  be  permitted  to 


800 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


301 


expatiate  as  it  will  through  all  the  many  mansions  of  our 
Father's  House  !  As  it  is  one  of  my  pleasant  remem- 
brances of  the  past  that  for  a  few  years  I  walked  by  the 
side  of  your  beloved  husband  as  a  brother  in  the  minis- 
try of  Christ  in  glad  fraternal  fellowship,  so  it  is  one  of 
my  most  joyous  anticipations  that  I  may  hope  to  meet 
him  again,  and  occasionally  climb  with  him  some  one 
of  the  everlasting  hills. 

Excuse  these  rapidly  written  words  — all  I  can  do  in 
the  midst  of  pressing  engagements. 

A  thousand  blessings  rest  upon  you  yourself  and  your 
household,  is  the  prayer  of 

Yours  most  fraternally, 

E.  K.  Alden. 
With   the   letters   which   follow,  from    Professor 
Wilkinson,  of  Rochester  Theological  Seminary,  and 
President  Robins,  of  Colby  University,  this  record 
may  close : 

Tarrytown,  N.  Y.,  Aug.  8,  1877. 
My   dear    Emma:     I   would    very   gladly   bring   my 
flower  to  add  to  the  tribute  which  your  faithful  affection 
is  gathering   from   many   willing   hands  to   lay  on   the 
fresh  tomb  of  so  much  beauty  and  worth  as  perished  in 
the  death  of  your  beloved  husband.     I  know  I  can  say 
nothing  that  will  not  have  been  already  said  by  others 
before  me  ;  for  there  was  an  openness  about  the  nature 
of  James  S.  Dickerson  that  laid  all  the  secret  of  what 
was  noble  in  him  bare  at  once  to  every  observer.     No 
that  is  not  quite  true  either.    Those  who  knew  him  best,' 
knew  that  he  had  strength  as  well  as  vivacity,  sound 
judgment  as  well  as  quick  wit,  penetrative  sagacity  as 
well  as  superficial  discernment,  real  hard-schooled  good- 
ness as  well  as  native  geniality,  patience  to  work  as  well 
as  preternatural  faculty  to  get  at  results  without  appar- 


ent process  of  labor ;  and  all  these  things  in  our  dear 
friend  such  as  saw  him  but  occasionally  might  easily 
have  failed  to  guess. 

After  all,  the  flavor  of  his  character  is  something  that 
only  the  memory  of  those  who  knew  the  man,  and  loved 
him,  can  retain.  You  can  not  gather  it  up,  and  fasten  it 
from  escaping,  in  a  few  words.  You  might  as  well  hope 
to  save  the  sparkle  of  champagne  after  exposing  it  to 
the  air.  That  radiant  good  humor  which  was  something 
other  than  the  mere  secretion  of  buoyant  health  —  for 
he  retained  it,  as  we  remember  and  admire,  even  in  the 
extreme  pains  of  his  illness—  that  radiant  good  humor 
of  his,  how  it  purified  and  made  sweet  the  overflow  of 
his  gayety  and  wit  !  No  sting  lay  concealed  in  the 
indescribable  aptness  of  his  swift  and  infallible  repartee. 

His  first  thought  was  kind  — that  was  the  felicity  of 
his  nature.  But  if  it  had  not  been,  his  second  thought 
would  have  corrected  the  error  —  that  was  the  fidelity 

of  his  conscience. 

They  mistook  who  might  suppose  that  such  unfailing 
complaisance  had  no  backbone  of  sturdy  principle  to 
stay  it  up  and  make  it  valuable.  I  know  well,  and  you 
know  better,  that  his  gentle,  almost  sportive,  yielding- 
ness  in  conversation  played  only  within  very  fixed  limits, 
which  loyalty  to  his  Master  appointed.  He  was  a  brave 
and  beautiful  spirit.  There  are  few  like  him  left  to  die. 
Not  a  man  living  will  grudge  to  his  memory  any  word 
of  ascription  that  he  may  win.  I  loved  him,  and  I 
lament  him.  And  I  know  that  if  I  had  entered  still 
more  deeply  than  I  did  into  the  heart  of  the  man,  it 
would  have  been  only  to  love  him  and  lament  him  more. 
Aftectionately,  your  brother, 

William  C.  Wilkinson. 


802 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


President  Robins  writes  as  follows : 

During  the  too  short  acquaintance  which  it  was  mv 
p  easure  to  have  with  Dr.  Dickerson,  one  trait  of  his 
character  quite   strongly  impressed    me,  viz.,  the   rare 

T[.ere  was  a  knightly  heroism  in  his  advocacy  and 
defense  of  what  he  regarded  the  truth,  which  was,  fn  the 
highest  degree,  attractive.  Having  taken  his  position, 
he  was  as  firm  as  granite  in  maintaining  it;  he  could 
not  he  moved  either  by  flattery  or  bv  frowns. 

Gu.ded  by  a  keen  intelligence,  he  was  always  ready  to 
give  we.ghty  reasons  for  his  course,  which,  If  not  con- 

re soecf     V  ^PP^^f «'  -ere  always  worthy  of  their 
respect.     His  was  not  the  obstructive  I  will  not,  but  the 

oToTr  r  "'''  .  ""'  ^^-P-^--^ed  the  significance 
send  1  ""T'  ""^'"^  ''''  *^^^  '  -"^ome  to 

sword.  He,  therefore,  neither  desired  nor  expected 
peace  except  as  the  victory  of  righteousness.  He  vehe- 
mently  scorned  the  weak  sentimentality  and  bastard 
charity  which  shrinks  from  giving  and  receiving  blows 
m  the  urgent  spiritual  warfare  committed  by  God  to  his 
church:  He  was  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ  and 
accepted  a  soldier's  experience  as  fitting  to  the  service 
to  which  he  had  given  his  life. 

Nor,  moreover,  was  there  a  trace  of  selfishness  in  his 

It  the  alloy  of  his  own  personality.    He  was  in  no  degree 
a  partisan.     He  defended  the  truth,  not  because  he  had 

it  wat  p'i^^^T^  '^''''  ^^'  b-t  -i-ys  and  solely  because 
It  was  God's.     He  sought  no  personal  victory.     He  was 


/ 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


303 


one  of  these  noble  spirits  whom  Faber  had  in  his  mind 
when  he  sung : 

God's  will  is  sweetest  to  him  when 
It  triumphs  at  his  cost. 

In  this  absence  of  mere  personal  motive  in  his  public 
work  is  given  the  secret  of  the  gentle  charity  which 
distinguished  him.  His  most  earnest  opposition  to  error 
was  love -inspired.  He  consciously  sought  the  highest 
good  of  those  whom  he  opposed.  "  Faithful  are  the 
wounds  of  a  friend  ;  but  the  kisses  of  an  enemy  are 
deceitful."  He  believed  with  all  his  heart  that  Christian 
truth  is  essential  to  the  well-being  of  men.  But  he  knew 
that,  in  the  present  state,  Christians  must  necessarily 
sometimes  diifer  in  their  apprehension  of  truth,  and, 
hence,  must  "earnestly  contend"  against  each  other. 
Nevertheless,  since  the  real  end  sought  by  all  in  these 
fraternal  conflicts  is  one,  he  could  see  no  reason  why  his 
own  peace  should  be  disturbed  by  personal  feelings. 
His  purpose  was  to  bless,  and  for  this  he  was  ready  to 
incur  any  danger,  and  to  suff*er  the  pangs  of  any  mis- 
apprehension. He  was  ever  in  sympathy  with  the  senti- 
ment of  the  prince  of  the  apostles  when  he  wrote  to  the 
Corinthian  Christians,  "  I  will  gladly  spend  and  be  spent 
for  you,  though  the  more  abundantly  I  love  you,  the 
less  I  be  loved."  His  was  the  utterance  of  holy  love, 
which  can  not  endure  error,  since  it  is  the  deadly  enemy 
of  man. 

He,  in  this  manner,  illustrated  the  gospel  which  he 
preached,  and  left  an  example  to  his  brethren  worthy 
of  their  study  and  imitation. 


RESUME   OF   CHARACTER. 


305 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

RESUME     OP    CHARACTER 

BY  A.  C.   KENDRICK. 

The  writer  of   this,  having  largely  manipulated 
the   preceding  pages,  adds,  by  request,  under  his 
own  name,  the  present  resume  of  Dr.  Dickerson's 
character.     It  is  nearly  a  work  of  supererogation. 
The  preceding  pages  have  probably  shed  all  needful 
light  on  that  character ;  and,  if  they  have  not,  it  is 
too  late  to  do  it  now.     If  they  have  failed  to  depict 
a  character  of  uncommon  loveliness,  and  a  life  of 
eminent  devotion  to  truth  and  duty,  no  summarizing 
of  qualities  can  now  accomplish  it.     The  test  of  the 
man  is  in  what  he  does;  and,  though  heinff  is  a  vital 
part  of  doinff,  yet,  if  both  have  not  revealed  them- 
selves  in  the  life,  though  our  eulogy  might  fit  out 
a   man   with  "all   the  virtues   under  heaven,"   we 
should  have  but  a  galvanized  caput  mortuum,  a  result 
parallel    to   that   Chinese   steamer  which,  modeled 
with    Chinese   fidelity  after  the   noblest   European 
pattern,  possessed  every  conceivable  excellence  ex- 
cept that  it  would  not  go.     No  classified  inventory  of 
virtues  answers  for  the  living  character. 

Much  less  is  any  such  minute  analysis  now  re- 
quired, after  the  admirable  portraitures  of  Dr.  Dick- 
erson,  drawn  from  various  points  of  view,  by  the 
distinguished  gentlemen  who  have  kindly  contributed 

804 


their  reminiscences  to  this  volume.  I  shall  simply 
endeavor  to  gather  up  a  few  general  results,  and  to 
signalize,  possibly,  a  few  traits  whose  illustration 
did  not  come  within  the  scope  of  the  preceding 
narrative. 

I  wish,  first,  to  emphasize,  as  strikingly  illustrated 
by  the  career  of  Dr.  Dickerson,  the  value  of  religious 
character,  not  merely  as  contributing  to  general  use- 
fulness, but  as  a  positive  constituent  of  intellectual 
force  and  ability.  Dr.  Dickerson's  native  abilities 
would  not  be  regarded  as  remarkable.  He  was  not, 
as  a  college  student,  distinguished  either  by  the 
depth  or  the  range  of  his  acquisitions ;  by  any 
unwonted  brilliancy  or  even  exactness  of  scholar- 
ship. Few  persons  in  the  college  anticipated  for 
him  the  efficient  career  which  lay  before  him,  simply 
because  they  did  not  know  how  steady  a  purpose 
ran  through  all  his  acts,  and  how  solid  a  spiritual 
basis  underlay  his  character.  The  soundness  of  his 
heart  ministered  even  more  than  ordinarily  to  the 
strength  of  his  intellect.  He  became  a  philosopher 
because  he  had  become  a  Christian.  He  made  sound 
moral  estimates,  and  formed  shrewd  and  large  judg- 
ments of  men  and  things,  because  of  the  high 
standard  which  he  instinctively  applied  to  them, 
and  because  of  those  lofty  spiritual  truths  which 
were  at  once  purifying  his  heart,  and  enriching  and 
expanding  his  intellect.  Who  can  tell  how  invigor- 
ating the  atmosphere  and  how  wide  the  range  of 
vision  in  that  lofty  realm  of  spiritual  truth  in  which 
he  moved  ? 

The  reader  of  the  poems  of  Lord  Byron  never 


306 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


RESUME:  OF  CHARACTER 


I 


ceases  to  admire  the  exquisite  aesthetic  sense,  the 
more  than  classic  grace  and  perfection  of  form  in 
which  he  is  nearly  without  a  rival  in  our  literature. 
In  picturesque  description,  in  rapid  and  brilliant 
narrative,  in  portraitures  of  life  and  nature,  drawn 
with  blended  power,  simplicity,  and  grace,  he  has 
few  equals  and  no  superiors.  Yet,  with  all  this, 
Lord  Byron  utterly  fails  to  reach  the  highest  realm 
of  song  ;  and  this,  because  he  has  no  profound  and 
no  divine  philosophy.  He  could  make  no  excursions 
into  the  highest  realms  of  thought  without  encoun- 
tering those  truths  from  which  his  sneering  skep- 
ticism recoiled,  or  which  seemed  to  wither  beneath 
his  Mephistophelian  touch.  Brought  face  to  face 
with  God,  and  immortality,  with  the  soul  and  all  its 
hisrhest  and  holiest  relations,  he  is  as  dumb  as  the 
harp  of  Memnon  before  it  thrilled  to  the  kindling 
beam  of  the  morning.  Thus  Lord  Byron  stands  on 
the  cold  and  glittering  heights  of  Parnassus,  self- 
excluded  from  that  lofty  and  glowing  heaven  of 
song,  opening  far  above  him,  where  Milton  strikes 
his  lyre  at  the  very  gates  of  the  celestial  city. 

I  may  be  pardoned  this  digression  for  the  im- 
portance of  the  truth  on  which  it  dwells.  It  can 
not,  I  think,  be  doubted,  nor  too  frequently  reiter- 
ated, that  the  highest  forms  of  intellectual  greatness 
and  literary  excellence  demand  as  their  condition 
the  deep  convictions  of  piety  and  the  ennobling 
truths  of  religion.  And  the  full  benefit  of  these 
influences  Dr.  Dickerson  enjoyed.  They  gave  sound- 
ness to  his  practical  judgment,  and  breadth  to  his 
intellectual  surveys.     They  gave  justness  and  deli- 


307 


cacy  to  the  balances  in  which  he  weighed  large 
questions  of  individual  and  public  interest.  They 
gave  him  an  activity  and  aggressiveness  to  which 
his  mere  intellectual  tastes  or  personal  ambitions 
would  not  have  prompted  him.  They  led  him,  in 
reading,  to  master  the  leading  phases  of  modern 
scientific  thought  in  its  bearing  on  religion.  They 
made  him  bold  to  take  up  and  do  battle  for  denomi- 
national questions,  and,  both  in  written  and  oTal  dis- 
cussions, encounter  successfully  men  whose  merely 
scholarly  claims  were  superior  to  his  own.  They 
brought  him  (while  residing  in  Boston)  at  times 
before  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts,  and  secured 
for  him  a  more  than  respectful  hearing  in  his  advo- 
cacy of  some  of  the  great  politico-moral  questions 
of  the  day.  They  led  him,  on  his  removal  to  Wil- 
mington, at  the  outbreak  of  secession,  to  throw 
himself  into  the  thick  of  the  fight,  fling  the  chal- 
lenge of  defiance  to  the  enemies  of  the  Union,  and, 
while  abating  not  a  whit  of  his  religious  patriotism 
in  the  kingdom  and  patience  of  his  Master,  to  put 
forth  an  energy  that  largely  prevented  an  additional 
State  from  swelling  the  ranks  of  secession,  and 
secured  a  recognition  of  his  efficient  loyalty  from 
the  Chief  Magistrate  of  the  Union. 

This  ripeness  and  fullness  of  Christian  character 
was,  in  large  measure,  due  to  his  fidelity  in  prayer. 
Dr.  Dickerson  was  very  eminently  a  man  of  prayer. 
He  began  his  religious  life  with  a  strong  faith  in  its 
efficacy.  This  faith  never  seems  to  have  wavered ; 
but,  founded  originally  on  the  assurances  of  the 
divine  word,  it  was  confirmed  by  a  large  personal 


808 


JAMES  S.  DICKEliSON. 


RESUME:  OF  CHARACTER. 


309 


I 


experience  of  its  power.     He  knew  what  it  was  to 
wrestle  with  the  Angel  of  the  Covenant,  and  to 
wrest  from  apparently  reluctant  hands  the  waiting 
blessing.      The    challenge    which    Prof.    TyndalFs 
prayer-test,  with  a  wickedness  surpassed  only  by 
its  foolishness,  flung  into  the  face  of  the  religious 
world,  would  have  rebounded  from  the  tried  buckler 
of  his  faith  like  the  impotent  weapon  of  Priam  from 
the  shield  of  Pyrrhus.     His  trust  in  God  was  child- 
like and  implicit.    He  knew  in  whom  and  wherefore 
he  believed.     While  in  his  study,  during  the  prepa- 
ration   of   his   sermons,   his   breathings  were  often 
heard   in  the  adjoining  room,  invoking  the  divine 
blessing  both  on  their  preparation  and  delivery.    All 
his  enterprises  were  inaugurated  with  prayer.   All  his 
burdens  of  duty  and  trial  were  borne  to  the  Divine 
Helper,  and  in  waiting  on  the  Lord  he  perpetually 
renewed  his  strength,  and  kept  up  the  liigh  tone  of  his 
religious  life.   Thus  he  attained  a  rounded,  symmetri- 
cal, and,  it  would  seem,  almost  complete,  religious 
character.     There  were  in  it  no  ugly  flaws.     There 
were  no  seams  in  the  joints  of  his  harness  through 
which  malice  could  send  a  poisoned  shaft;    there 
was  nothing  that  made  an  if  or  a  hut  requisite  to 
modify  the  words  of  eulogy.     His  conscience  was  as 
sensitive  as  his  principles  were  firm.     Tender  in  his 
judgments  of  others,  he  was  rigorous  toward  himself, 
and  incapable  of  compromising  a  principle,  or  dally- 
ing with  temptation.     Of  this  fidelity  to  principle 
we  might  give  many  illustrations.     The  demands  of 
principle  were  imperative,  and  neither  in  little  nor 
in  great  could  he  be  induced  to  disobey  them. 


One  illustration  of  his  Christian  fidelity  and 
kindness  may  not  here  be  out  of  place.  While 
walking  along  rapidly  in  the  city  of  New  York,  in  a 
rain -storm,  he  heard  beside  him  a  gentle  voice 
saying,  "  Please,  sir,  share  the  shelter  of  my  um- 
brella." Understanding  the  import  of  the  proffer, 
he  declined  it,  and  passed  on  with  quickened  step. 
The  woman  followed,  insisting  that  he  should  accept 
the  proffered  shelter,  and  stop  at  her  house  in  an 
adjoining  street  until  the  shower  was  over.  Struck 
by  the  plaintiveness  of  her  tone,  he  turned,  and, 
seeing  a  beautiful  young  woman,  with  a  face  as  sad 
as  the  mourning  garments  which  she  wore,  and  an 
expression  clearly  alien  from  the  life  upon  which  she 
had  entered,  he  paused,  and,  looking  her  gently  in 
the  face,  asked  her,  "How  could  you  come  to  this?" 
She  replied,  telling,  alas!  the  '-old,  old  story"— 
how  she  had  been  betrayed,  and  then  discarded,  and 
had  no  resource  but  in  a  life  of  shame.  He  walked 
along  beside  her,  and  told  her  of  the  Friend  of  the 
sinner  and  the  outcast ;  of  Him  who  had  pardoned 
the  Magdalene,  and  had  withheld  his  condemnation 
from  the  woman  taken  in  adultery.  Thus  following 
her  to  her  door  with  words  of  tender  and  fiiithful 
instruction  and  entreaty,  he  left  her  with  an  in- 
ward prayer  that  they  might  not  prove  ineffectual. 
Whether  they  did,  the  judgment  will  disclose. 

Dr.  Dickerson's  public  life  was  mainly  spent  in 
the  ministry.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  clear,  impres- 
sive, and  fervid.  His  voice  was  flexible  and  sonor- 
ous, his  action  graceful  and  spirited,  and  his  religious 
earnestness,  acting  upon  a  temperament  of  exceeding 


310 


JAMES  S.  DlCKEliSON. 


susceptibility,  made  him  sometimes  thrillingly  elo- 
quent.    The  lightness  of  his  physical  frame''  might, 
perhaps,  seem  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his  producing 
the  highest  effects  of  eloquence.    A  certain  material 
weight  and  massiveness  sometimes  greatly  aid  the 
orator  in  bearing  down  on  the  convictions  and  feel- 
ings of  his  audience.      Yet  Dr,  Dickerson's  lighter 
artillery  was  handled  with  a  skill  and  dexterity  that 
largely  made  good  its  deficiency  in  weight.     And  in 
intellectual  and  moral  weight  he  was  rarely  or  never 
lacking.     His  sermons  were  carefully  prepared,  with 
the  aid  of  much  reading  and  meditation,  and  then 
came  direct  from  a  heart  glowing  with  divine  ardor, 
and  lips  that  had  shared  the  heavenly  anointing. 

As  a  pastor,  it  was  scarcely  possible  that  he  should 
not  be  equally  loved  and  useful.     His  nature  was  so 
kind  and  genial,  his  sympathies  so  quick  and  ardent, 
his  play  of  feeling  so  rapid  and  instantaneous  in  its 
adaptation  to  all  needs  and  characters,  that  he  was 
sure  of  a  v/elcome  to  whatever  place  a  pastor's  voca- 
tion might  bring  him.     By  the  bed  of  the  sick  and 
dying,  he  was  a  skillful  comforter.     His  tender  and 
delicate  instincts  of  spiritual  perception  seemed  to 
follow  the  parting  soul  into  the  very  waters  of  the 
dark  river,  and  aid  it  in  catching  bright  glimpses  of 
the  farther  shore.     He  could  minister  to  sorrowing 
bosoms    the    consolations    of   a   heart    which,  if   it 
had  not  sounded  all  the  depths  of  affliction,  had 
sounded  the  depths  of  that  ^'love"  which  "knows 
the  secret  of  grief,"  and  that  subtle  sympathy  which 
can   divine   the   mystery  of  as  yet   unexperienced 
sorrow.      And,  as   in   the   house   of   mourning,   so 


RESUME  OF  CHARACTER. 


311 


in  the  house  of  feasting;  in  the  festive  gatherings 
to  which  our  religion  lends  its  sanction,  he  was 
equally  in  demand,  and  his  genial  and  inspiring 
presence  crowned  the  gladness  of  the  occasion. 

He  was  a  skillful  conductor  of  the  prayer-meeting 
and  the  Sabbath-school.  He  would,  in  a  quiet  way, 
occasionally  divert  the  school  from  its  wonted  routine 
of  instruction,  call  out  the  teachers  in  brief  prayers, 
or  from  his  own  treasures  of  thought  and  fertile 
and  striking  illustration,  occupy  the  time  to  the 
profit  and  delight  of  all. 

Nor  were  his  ministrations  confined  to  the  spiritual 
wants  of  his  people.  He  was  their  shepherd  also  in 
their  temporal  matters.  The  kindness  of  his  heart 
led  him  constantly  to  sympathize  with  them  in  their 
business  perplexities,  and  to  give  them  the  judicious 
advice  which  a  naturally  shrewd  judgment,  consider- 
able experience  of  life,  and  an  interest  that  made 
others'  affiiirs  his  own,  qualified  him  to  give.  Thus 
he  often  became  the  arbiter  of  their  disputes ;  the 
settler  of  their  estates ;  the  almost  legal  adviser  of 
the  poor  and  friendless,  rendering  them  invaluable 
service  without  money  and  without  price. 

But  if  without  price  to  them,  often  not  without 
price  to  himself.  In  pecuniary  matters  he  was  gen- 
erous, perhaps  even  to  fault.  He  brought  and  held 
his  people  up  to  the  highest  possible  point  of  gener- 
ous giving ;  but  he  did  not  urge  them  to  a  benevo- 
lence which  he  failed  to  practice  himself.  He 
advocated  no  cause  to  which  he  did  not  set  the 
example  of  liberally  contributing.  He  was  ready  to 
receive,  and   did   repeatedly  receive,  aid  from   his 


312 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


wealthier  relatives.  This  he  felt  as  no  humiliation, 
but  gratefully  recognized  their  generosity.  But  he 
could  not  and  would  not,  himself,  forego  the  luxury 
of  ministering  to  the  pecuniary  necessities  of  others 
—  that  blessedness  of  giving  which  surpasses  the 
blessedness  of  receiving. 

Indeed,  there  would  be  almost  no  end  to  the 
illustrations  of  Mr.  Dickerson's  kindness  of  heart. 
It  acted  in  every  conceivable  form :  its  response  to 
every  appeal  of  want  and  suffering  was  instant  and 
effective.  Be  the  appeal  religious  or  political,  be 
the  suffering  of  mind  or  of  body — in  the  forts,  of  rebel 
prisoners;  on  the  field,  strewn  with  the  dead  and 
dying;  in  the  hospitals,  where  words  of  cheer  were 
to  be  spoken,  letters  to  be  written,  a  wounded  limb 
to  be  bandaged,  a  darkened  soul  to  be  pointed  to  its 
Savior — nothing  came  amiss;  he  had  a  heart  and  a 
hand  for  every  emergency.  He  was  as  prompt  for 
physical  as  for  spiritual  needs.  In  Boston,  on  one 
occasion,  the  cry  was  raised  that  a  Avoman  in  an  ad- 
joining house  had  set  her  clothes  on  fire,  and  was 
burning  to  death.  Darting  from  the  house,  but 
seizing  with  quick  thoughtfulness  a  large  cloak  or 
garment  hanging  in  the  hall,  he  flew  to  the  woman, 
now  rushing  wildly  round  in  helpless  distraction, 
flung  the  cloak  about  her,  and  thus  effectually 
smothered  the  flames,  while  he,  at  the  same  time, 
called  for  water  to  extinguish  the  fire  which  was 
spreading  to  other  objects.  He  did  all  that  could 
be  done  ;  but  was,  indeed,  '*  too  late  to  save."  She 
had  already  swallowed  flame,  and  survived  but  a 
few  hours. 


resum:6  of  character. 


313 


0 


A  more  striking  incident  occurred  while  he  resided 
in  Pittsburgh.    Sitting  at  his  study  window,  he  wit- 
nessed a  terrible  explosion  in  a  rolling-mill  a  block 
or  two  from  the  house.     He  did  what  every  one 
would  have  done,  and  was  in  an  instant  down  stairs, 
out  of  the  house,  and  at  the  scene  of  the  disaster 
But  he  did  what  many  would  not  have  done  from 
lack  of  presence  of  mind  and  vigor  for  the  emer- 
gency.    Almost  the  first  on  the  ground,  he  was  quite 
the  first,  and  for  some  time  the  only  one,  prepared  for 
active  measures.     He  rushed,  himself,  into  the  hot 
ashes,  and  drew  forth  the  mutilated  bodies,  direct- 
ing others  to   bring  straw,  carpets,  bandages,  and 
other  necessaries  for  the  wounded.     Perceiving  that 
the  engineer  had  been  killed,  he  directed  attention 
to  the  boiler  which  had  not  exploded,  in  order  to 
avoid  a  second  catastrophe.     Thus  he  worked  for 
two  hours,  his  hands  covered  with  blood  and  brains, 
and  at  the  same  time  giving  directions  to  others  with 
the  coolness  of  one  experienced  in  such  scenes.   They 
took  him  for  a  surgeon,  and  obeyed  his  instructions 
implicitly.      One   little    incident   individualizes   the 
scene,  and  reminds  us  what  depths  of  private  woe 
lie  beneath  such  a  disaster.     As  he  had  just  cared 
for  and  sent  to  his  home  one  poor  man  who  was  ter- 
ribly wounded,  he  asked  a  little  boy  standing  near 
if  he  knew  who  the  man  was.     ''That,"  replied  the 
little  fellow  with  streaming   eyes,   "is   my  papa." 
Alas!    with    every  suffering  "somebody's  darling" 
always  suffers.     The  vibrations  of  sorrow  are  like 
the  vibrations  of  the  air.     Who  can  guess  their  limit  ? 
Another  illustration  of  Mr.  Dickerson's  kindness 

14 


314 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


of  heart,  lies  in  quite  a  different  direction.     Pass- 
ing one  day  along  the  street,  he  saw  near  a  fruit- 
erer's stand  a  sweet-faced  little  girl  with  crutches 
looking  wistfully  at  the  fruit.     Reminded  at  once  of 
his  own  lame  little  daughter  Ada,  he  crossed  over 
and  said,  *'  Well,  now  my  little  girl,  what  do  you  see 
there  that  you  would  like  ?  "    The  shy  little  girl  drop- 
ped her  head  half  frightened,  and  put  her  crutches 
in  motion  to  limp  away.     "But,"  said  Mr.  Dicker- 
son,  "  I  want  to  give  you  this  beautiful  pear  (cutting 
one  from  its  string)  and  a  few  of  these  fine  grapes. 
And  where  are  your  pockets  for  a  few  of  these  nuts 
and  cakes  of  sugar?"     With  pleased  astonishment 
the  girl  looked  at  him  as  if  he  had  just  come  from 
fairy  land.     He  then  spoke  to  her  some  kind  words, 
and  as  she  departed  he  followed  at  a  distance  that  he 
might  see  where  she  resided,  and  when  again  coming 
this  way,  might  call  and  inquire  after  her.     A  httle 
time  after,  being  in  this  neighborhood,  he  again  pro- 
cured a  like  supply  of  grapes  and  ''  goodies "  and 
called  at  the  home  of  his  little  beneficiary.     The 
door  was  reluctantly  and  partially  opened  by  the 
mistress  of  the  house  who  rather  curtly  inquired 
what  he  wanted.     He  replied  that  he  had  become 
interested  in  a  little  lame  girl  who  lived  there,  and 
had  called  to  inquire  after  her  and  bring  her  a  little 
fruit.     The  door  instantly  swung  wide  open,  and  the 
heart  of  the  mother  along  with  it,  and  exclaiming 
that  this  must  be  the  gentleman  who  had  shown  such 
kindness  to  her  daughter,  she  cordially  welcomed  him 
in.     On  conversing  with  them  he  found  that,  by  a 
singular  coincidence,  the  name  of  the  little  girl  was 


RESUME  OF   CHARACTER. 


315 


Ada,  the  name  of  his  own  suffering  daughter,  and  a 
certain  resemblance  to  whom  in  her  sweet  face  and 
form  had  first  attracted  him  to  her.  After  uttering 
words  of  cheer  and  peace  to  the  household,  and 
especially  invoking  upon  it  the  peace  of  God,  he 
departed,  having,  perhaps,  made  friends  in  this 
humble  dwelling  that  would  yet  meet  him  at  the 
gates  of  the  Heavenly  Paradise  and  welcome  him 
into  the  everlasting  habitations.  An  incident  like 
this  does  not  read  very  large  in  human  history,  but 
in  the  Heavenly  annals  it  shines  with 

A  purer  fame 
Than  gathers  round  Marengo's  name. 

In  the  huts  of  the  poor,  in  the  comforting  of  bro- 
ken hearts,  in  remembering  those  whom  the  world 
forgets,  and  honoring  those  whom  the  world  despises, 
are  displayed  the  real  heroism,  and  achieved  the  real 
victories  of  earth.  i 

By  the  side  of  Dr.  Dickerson's  amiability  and  kind- 
ness of  heart  was  the  sunniness  of  his  temper,  the 
buoyancy  of  his  spirit,  a  geniality  and  playfulness 
perpetually  rippling  over  with  humor,  and  often  con- 
densing and  sharpening  itself  into  wit.  Both  the  wit 
and  the  humor  were  always  kindly.  No  poisoned 
shaft  ever  went  from  his  quiver  to  rankle  in  any 
bosom.  Not  indeed  but  that  both  the  humor  and  the 
wit  might  sometimes  subserve  very  serious  purposes, 
and  accomplish  what,  perhaps,  argument  would  have 
failed  of.  Of  his  witticisms  the  reader  has  had  many 
specimens.  When  he  said  that  after  being  a  few 
hours  at  sea  he  felt  like  "  throwing  up  "  the  whole 


316 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


voyage ;  when  he  said  that  his  little  boy  would  like 
all  the  better  to  have  everything  thrown  into ''pi" 
provided  it  were  of  the  right  type ;  when  with  grim 
humor  he  called  on  his  mutilated  leg  to  ''speak  for 
itself,  and  be  the  %tump  orator  of  the  occasion  \'  when, 
in  a  public  harangue  against  some  proposed  iniqui- 
tous anti-temperance  legislation  he  was  advising  his 
audience  to  vote  at  the  approaching  election  for  a 
governor  who  would  see  that  the  license  law  was 
carried  out,  instead  of  for  his  opponent,  who  was  an 
intemperate  man,  but  a  military  leader,  being  inter- 
rupted with  the  cry  that  General would  enforce 

the  license  law  "at  the  pint  of  the  bayonet,"  he  in- 
stantly retorted,  "  Yes,  and  with  a  pint  of  whisky  at 
the  other  end,"  he  but  uttered  sallies  the  like  of 
which  were  continually  springftig  from  his  lips  and 
pen.  But  he  never  wounded,  or  wounded  only  to 
heal.  The  law  of  kindness  was  in  his  heart  and  on 
his  lips. 

Dr.  Dickerson  was  exceedingly  happy  in  his  wed- 
ded relations.  His  first  wife  was  a  lady  of  rare 
personal  attractions  and  lovely  character.  In  the 
early  days  of  her  bright  and  beautiful  maidenhood 
the  writer  of  this  well  remembers  her,  shedding  bright- 
ness around  the  circle  which  she  adorned  in  her  oc- 
casional visits  to  Hamilton,  where  Mr.  Dickerson  first 
formed  her  acquaintance.  As  a  wife  and  a  mother 
she  fulfilled  the  promise  of  her  girlhood,  and  alike  in 
his  early  struggles  and  his  later  still  more  arduous 
duties,  she  was  the  faithful  friend,  the  judicious  ad- 
viser, the  joy  and  light  of  his  home.  His  second  wife, 
who,  in  addition  to  one  surviving  blue-eyed  cherub 


HESUM]6  OF  CHARACTER. 


317 


of  her  own,  has  succeeded  to  the  care  of  his  children, 
stands,  as  editress  of  the  present  volume,  and  with 
the  expunging  proof-reader's  pen  in  her  hand,  be- 
tween me  and  any  words  of  indiscreet  eulogy  which 
my  heart  and  judgment  might  prompt  me  to  write. 
She  can  not,  however,  prevent  me  from  saying  that 
rarely  has  the  loss  of  a  first-beloved  companion  been 
more  thoroughly  made  up.  She  can  not  prevent  me 
from  saying  that  she  proved  to  him  an  equally  capa- 
ble and  devoted  wife,  and  has  shown  all  a  mother's 
devotion  to  his  children ;  and  she  will  not  wish  to 
prevent  me  from  sa}'ing  that  her  devotion  has  been 
repaid  by  an  answering  tenderness  and  affection. 
The  investment  which  her  husband  made  in  the 
Standard  he  transferred  to  her.  She  herself  presides 
ably  and  gracefully  over  certain  special  editorial  col- 
umns; and  her  oldest  son  is  one  of  the  business 
managers  of  the  paper.  Of  tlie  two  wives  one  went 
hand  in  hand  with  him  through  the  trials  and  labors 
of  his  earlier  public  life  :  the  other  shared  the  deeper 
sorrows  and  walked  in  the  darker  shadows  that  gath- 
ered round  its  close.  But  both  met  the  unfailing 
sunniness  of  his  temper  with  answering  brightness 
and  buoyancy.  Both  partly  found,  partly  made, 
partly  shared,  as  happy  a  home  as  often  gladdens  an 
earth  in  which  happy  homes  are  a  precious  reminder 
of  the  bliss  of  Eden.  And  both,  in  the  land  where 
there  is  neither  marrying  nor  giving  in  marriage, 
will  renew  with  him,  and  with  each  other,  that  bliss- 
ful intercourse  which,  with  few  alloys  of  memory, 
will  have  none  of  present  bliss  and  glorious  antici- 
pation. 


318 


JAMES  S.  DICKER80N. 


And  here  the  curtain  drops  upon  the  record  of  a 
life  of  faithful  service  to  God,  and  of  large  and  varied 
service  to  humanity ;  of  a  character  beautiful  in  both 
its  human  and  divine  elements ;  which,  having  blessed 
the  earth,  added,  in  parting  hence,  a  priceless  gem  to 
the  accumulating  riches  of  Heaven.  All  honor  to  the 
Wondrous  Name  that  amid  the  ruins  of  the  apostacy 
works  such  miracles  of  grace,  and  refashions  the 
crumbling  structures  of  earthly  character  and  destiny 
into  the  buildings  not  made  with  hands,  eternal,  in 
the  Heavens ! 


APPENDIX. 


A    SUCCESSFUL    LIFE. 

From  the  Memorial  Sermon  of  Bev.  J.  D.  Fulton,  D.D., 
delivered  in  the  First  Baptist  Church,  Chicago,  July 
2,  1876,  from  the  text :  Mark  x,  29,  30  :  "  And 
Jesus  answered  aiid  said  :  Verily  I  say  unto  you, 
there  is  no  man  that  hath  left  house,  or  brethren,  or 
sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  or 
lands,  for  my  sake  and  the  Gospel's,  but  he  shall 
receive  a  hundredfold  more  in  this  titne  ;  houses  and 
brethren  and  sisters,  and  mother  and  children  and 
lands,  loith  persecution,  and  in  the  world  to  come 
eternal  life.'*'' 

Our  Lord  is  author  of  the  statement  that  it  pays  to 
serve  Christ,  and  to  endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier 
for  the  sake  of  the  Gospel.  The  successful  life  which 
ceased  its  activities  on  earth,  and  entered  upon  the  en- 
ioyments  of  Heaven  on  Tuesday,  March  21,  1876,  as 
James  S.  Dickerson  crossed  the  bridgeless  river,  and 
received  Christ's  welcome  plaudit,  is  a  beautiful  and 
forcible  illustration  of  this  encouraging  truth.  Happy 
are  we  in  the  privilege  furnished  us  of  contemplating  his 
virtues,  and  studying  the  reasons  underlying  the  victory 
won.  Happy  are  we  especially,  because  it  is  possible  to 
praise  without  an  "  if,"  and  to  speak  with  enthusiasm  of 
this  wonderful  character  without  a  cautionary  "but. 

No  one  in  Philadelphia,  where  July  6,  1825,  he  was 
born,  and  where  he  afterward  lived,  or  in  New  York,  or 
Wilmington,  or  Pittsburgh,  or  Boston,  where  he  served 
his  day  and  generation;  or  in  Chicago,  where  he  laid 
aside  his  armor,  will  question  this  meed  of  praise. 

On  every  hand  men,  women,  and  children  speak  of  him 
as  one  of  the  most  genial  of  men,  whose  Christian  life, 
beginning  when  he  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  found  its 

819 


r 


820 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


key-note  in  the  words  of  Christ  we  have  chosen  as  the 
foundation  of  remark.  "For  my  sake  and  the  Gospel's" 
he  lived,  and  when  he  came  to  die,  and  was  asked  what 
message  he  would  send  to  his  brethren  in  the  ministry, 
he  replied  slowly  and  considerately,  "  Tell  them  to  stand 
for  God  and  the  Baptists;  for  Christ  and  His  truth;  a 
spiritual  church."  Good  George  Herbert  said  in  the  six- 
teenth century:  "  The  pastor  is  the  deputy  of  Christ  for 
the  reducing  of  man  to  the  obedience  of  God."  Dr. 
Dickerson  ever  felt  and  acted  this  truth.  He  never  for- 
got the  Captain  of  his  salvation,  under  whose  flag  he 
enlisted,  and  by  whose  orders  he  marched.      *      *      * 

The  year  that  has  gone  has  carried  into  the  eternal 
world  many  ripened  sheaves.  Solomon  Peck,  D.  D.,  for 
so  many  years  the  Secretary  of  the  Missionary  Union, 
died  in  Rochester  in  the  ripeness  of  his  fame.  All 
who  knew  him  mourned  him.  His  work  was  done.  He 
waited  for  the  reward  upon  which  he  entered.  I 
mourned  him  and  rejoiced  in  his  wonderful  reward. 
Horatio  B.  Hackett,  one  of  the  best  Greek  scholars  of 
this  or  of  any  land;  a  man  who  for  years  and  years  had 
shed  the  halo  of  his  illustrious  reputation  upon  the 
scholarship  of  the  age,  and  upon  the  rising  and  rapidly 
growing  repute  of  American  Literature,  passed  from 
the  activities  of  life  without  warning.  Like  Enoch  he 
walked  with  God,  and  he  was  not,  for  God  took  him. 
He  was  a  personal  friend.  As  a  man  he  was  the  most 
jovial  and  genial  of  men.  At  our  table  he  has  been 
an  honored  guest,  and  the  children  were  refreshed  and 
regaled  by  his  ennobling  sentiments,  the  stories  of  travel, 
and  recollections  of  those  whose  friendship  he  had  en- 
joyed. He  died,  and  the  news  startled  and  shocked  us. 
The  family  talked  about  him.  called  up  his  beautiful  life, 
and  rejoiced  that  God  had  spared  so  wonderful  a  man  to 
us  so  long.  Dr.  Osgood,  the  saintly  missionary,  whose 
shadow  has  blessed  the  Western  churches,  as  his  life 
made  glad  the  East,  died  in  ripened  age,  and  his  works 
praise  him  even  while  we  mourn  his  loss. 

But  when  the  tidings  came  of  the  death  of  dear  Dick- 
erson, there  was  a  scene  I  shall  not  soon  forget.  Since 
the  shadow  of  my  mother's  death  crossed  the  threshold 


MEMOmAL  SERMON. 


321 


of  our  home,  there  has  been  no  gloom  like  it.     For 
myself  I  could  onlv  find  refuge  in  the  words  of  David 
concerning  Jonathan  :    "I   am  distressed  for  thee,   my 
brother;  very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me;  thy  love 
to  me  was  wonderful,  passing  the  love  of  woman."     For 
days  I  was  unfitted  for  work.     I  visited  the  sea-shore 
where  we  passed  a  day  together  two  years  before.     I  re- 
called the  picture  of  him  as  he  was  with  his  wife  and 
children  on  the  way  to  Boston  in  1870,  with  his  bright 
look  and  his  cheery  speech.     I  thought  of  him  as  week 
after  week,  and  month  after  month,  we  drove  together 
over  the  beautiful  roads  about  Boston,  when  he  was  so 
full  of   life  and  enjoyment.     Methinks  now  I  hear  his 
ringing  laugh,  his  wit,  his  voice  in  song,  and  his  voice  in 
prayer.     I  will  say  now  that  I  used  then  to  look  forward 
to  such  a  time  as  this  and  I  made  all  in  my  power  of  this 
life,  as  I  knew  it  and  loved  it.     Then  he  was  in  strength. 
A  year  later  the  hard  winter  in  Boston  told  on  him.     I 
visited  him,  and  though  he  was  in  bed  suffering  from  in- 
flammatory rheumatism,  we   could  not  believe   him   in 
danger.     Like  a  sky-rocket  he  waited  but  for  the  torch 
of  wit,  when  he  would  go  off"  and  fill  the  room  with  gold 
rain.     He  came  to  see  me  afterward  when  convalescent, 
in  Brooklyn.     His  words,  who  could  forget  them?     His 
love  shone  through  them.     Then  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his 
wife  which  1  have  since  read.     It  was  like  him.     In  it  he 
said,  "I  am  grateful  that  1  feel  so  well  this  morning.     If 
I  can  onlv  get  back  a  good  voice  once  more  — and  I  am 
quite  hopeful  — I  think  I  am  good  for  considerable  ser- 
vice vet.     There  are  many  openings;  but  perhaps  God 
has  aVork  for  me  to  do  right  where  He  has  Placed  me, 
and  it  is  far  the  wiser  way  to  await  His  unfolded  will.     I 
am  ready  to  do  it.     That  is  the  happiest  as  well^  as  the 
most  profitable  path  that  is  marked  out  by  Him,       I  his 
was  his  faith,  as  is  seen  by  many  utterances.     In  the 
sketch  of  Thomas  Stokes,  his  honored  ancestor,  he  writes 
as  follows:     "It  has  always  been  true,  and  it  ever  will 
be,  that  the  path  of  duty  is  the  direct  road  to  earth's  best 
success,  and  Heaven's  sure  reward.     To  attempt  deeds 
because  they  are  conspicuously  great,  to  strive  for  the 
attainment  of  results  that  will  be  deemed  brilliant,  with- 


»LIMWg^ 


f 


322 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


MEMORIAL  SERMON. 


323 


out  putting  forth  a  corresponding  effort  of  an  honest  and 
homely  endeavor,  is  at  best  but  a  higher  type  of  ambi- 
tious vanity,  and  utterly  delusive  as  to  the  achievement 
of  even  the  cheap  and  unsubstantial  honors  of  this 
world."     *     *     *     * 

Afterwards,  he  came  here,  and  was  sick.     There  was 
a  swelling  on  his  knee.     He  went  to  the  Hot  Springs 
of  Arkansas.     He  was  not  going  to  die,  not  he.     He  was 
soon  to  be  well.    He  liked  Chicago;  he  liked  his  partners 
in  the  paper  and  in  the  editorial  sanctum.     He  liked  his 
old  friend  who  baptized  him,  and  his  friend  who  stood 
with  him  in  Philadelphia.     He  came  back  from  Arkan- 
sas, and  was  soon  to  be  well ;  but  he  did  not  get  well. 
I  was  in  Toledo,  Ohio,  on  my  way  home  ;  and,  opening 
the  Watchman  and  Reflector^  saw  that  he  was  going  to 
die.    His  leg  was  worse  ;  his  physicians  despaired  of  him. 
I  took  the  first  train  for  Chicago,  and  found  him  in  High- 
land  Park,  that   beautiful  village   by  the   Lake,  in   the 
home  of   his  sister.     He  would  not  see  me  in  bed  ;    I 
must  wait  a  few  minutes.     1  did  so.     I  soon  heard  his. 
crutches  on  the  floor.    The  door  opened.    There  was  the 
eye,  the  laugh,  the  greeting,  but  my  friend  was  wasted 
to   a   skeleton.     We    had   three    hours    together.     We 
walked  just  under  Heaven's  opened  windows.    We  heard 
the  angels  sing,  and  Jesus  speak,  and  yet  we  were  here. 
Never  had  I  so  good  a  day.     I  went  immediately  out  of 
the  city.     I  never  saw  him  more.     This  may  not  interest 
another  one  in  all  this  world,  but  yet  in  eternity  I  shall 
thank  God  for  the  privilege  of  saying  what  is  in  my 
heart  in  this  presence.     A  few  days  before  he  died,  I 
was  in  Wilmington,  Delaware.    After  preaching  an  ordi- 
nation sermon  in  another  portion  of  the  city,  I  went  to 
his  old  church,  where  Brother  Cook,  the   pastor,  intro- 
duced me  to  the  people,  and  I  talked  to  them  of  Wil- 
mington as  I  had  heard  about  it  from  the  lips  of  their 
former  pastor.     How  glad  they  were  to  hear  from  him  ! 
They  cried  and  laughed.      They  came  and  shook   my 
hand,  and  sent  love  to  him  ;  and,  before  T  took  the  night 
train,  I  wrote  of  their  love  and  sent  it  on,  and  the  next 
I  heard  of  him  he  was  dead.    He  received  the  letter,  and 


' 


said  he  would  answer  it,  but  did  not,  for  God  beckoned 

him  away. 

Now,  in  what  Dr.  Dickerson  did  for  the  denomination, 
I  do  not  place  him  beside  the  eminent  Secretary  Peck, 
or  the  distinguished  scholar,  Hackett ;  but  in  my  heart 
I  mourn  for  him  as  I  never  mourned  for  any  other  man. 
Why  is  this  sorrow  ?     It  is  to  answer  this  question  I  am 
here.     Do  not  misunderstand  me.     Extravagant  eulogy 
would  offend  him,  and  humiliate  me.     He  was  not  the 
ripest  scholar,  the  finest  orator,  the  best  writer,  or  the 
most  successful  pastor  I  ever  knew.      If  he  were  only 
a   writer,  or   a   scholar,  or   an   acceptable   preacher  or 
pastor,  1   would   not  be  out  of  my  pulpit,  and  in  this 
place,  to  praise  him.     It  was  because  he  lived  for  Christ 
and  His  gospel,  and  so  for  friends,  and  for  a  lost  world, 
as    very   few  men  ever   lived    for  them.     It  was  more 
the  way  he  lived,  than  what  he  did,  that   binds  me   to 
hiin.     He  was  the  one  man  that  could  love  and  work, 
month  after  month,  without  so  much  as  asking  the  ques- 
tion to  his  inner  self,  "  Will  this  help  me  ?"     Jonathan 
went  out  into  the  wood  and  strengthened  David's  hand 
in   God.      David    never   forgot  it.     Dr.  Dickerson   was 
doing  this  all  the  time.     He  was  doing  it  for  every  one, 
for  friends  and  foes  ;  for  men  who  were  true  to  him,  and 
men  who  were  false  to  him,  but  who  were,  in  his  estima- 
tion, true  to  Christ.    He  never  betrayed  any  one  to  serve 
himself.     He  was  strictly  truthful.     You  could  rely  on 
him.  He  was  not  a  party  man.  He  was  not  any  man's  man. 
He  was  true  to  God,  to  self,  and  to  all  the  world.     If  he 
expressed  an  opinion,  he  would  stand  by  it.     He  knew 
no  such  thing  as  fear.     He  could  look  any  man  in  the 
eye,  and  tell  him  the  truth.    He  had,  as  a  result,  marvel- 
ous power.     He  was  a  known  quantity.     He  was  pure 
gold.    You  could  trust  him  where  you  could  not  trace  him. 
He  would  help  because  his  heart  was  in  the  business. 
He  was  always  surprising  friends,  his  wife,  his  children, 
with  the  prodigality  of  his  love.     ***** 

It  pays  to  serve  Christ.  This  is  an  old  theory  which 
is  ever  putting  forth  new  buds  of  hope,  new  flowers  of 
promise,  and  ripening  into  harvests  that  furnish  seed 


824 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


with  which  to  sow  the  fields  of  the  beyond.     It  pays  to 
serve  those  who  love  Christ. 

This  world  is  full  of  grand  men  and  noble  women. 
There  is  a  great  deal  more  of  unselfishness  going  on 
than  the  Christian  church  gets  credit  for.  My  praise  of 
dear  Dickerson  is  spoken  at  a  time  when  the  air  is 
full  of  the  echoes  of  resounding  ruin.  The  Devil  is  try- 
ing to  prove  that  there  are  no  brave,  noble,  unselfish 
men.  The  Demi  is  a  liar.  There  are  great  numbers 
of  them.  As  some  of  the  living  may  slip,  and  so  make 
an  eulogy  a  mistake,  it  is  a  comfort  to  paint  a  picture 
of  Dr.  Dickerson,  and,  holding  it  up,  ask  men  to  gaze 
on  it,  and  declare,  this  is  what  comes  of  giving  the  heart 
and  life  to  Jesus  Christ.  In  American  society,  a  Chris- 
tian minister  sustains  vital  relations  to  the  people.  *  *  * 
There  are  those  who  are  disposed  to  ignore  the  truth 
that  a  minister  should  be  respected  for  his  leadership  in 
business,  for  political  acumen.  The  life  of  Dr.  Dicker- 
son  refutes  their  theory.  His  political  sagacity  was 
astute  ;  his  business  faculty  was  immense  ;  his  leadership 
was  almost  prescient.  There  is  evil  in  the  world,  and 
the  greatest,  the  noblest,  the  purest,  and  the  best  are 
exposed  to  it.  Their  feet  walk  the  ragged  edge  of  a 
precipice,  which  is  being  revealed  to  the  ruin  of  all. 
The  battle  of  truth  with  error  is  not  over.  At  times, 
wolves  in  sheep's  clothing  enter  the  fold.  It  may  be,  and 
it  often  is,  the  imperative  duty  of  a  good  man"  to  strip 
off  the  garments  of  the  hypocrite,  and  expose  corruption 
and  deformity.  Let  us  rejoice  for  the  proof  furnished 
in  the  life  we  are  here  to  contemplate,  that  they  who  live 
for  Christ  and  His  gospel  find  in  the  end  that  God  lives 
for  them,  and  sees  to  it  that  right-doing  is  rewarded,  and 
virtue  and  uprightness  and  honor  are  protected. 

Then  Dr.  Fulton  speaks  eloquently  of  the  charac- 
ter of  one  of  God's  true  ministers,  what  he  can  be  in 
its  broadest  sense  as  a  great  power  for  good,  and 
adds : 

We  are  here  to  glorify  God  because  of  what  it  is 
possible  for  Christ  in  a  man  to  do  or  be,  and  for  what  a 


MEMORIAL  SERMON. 


325 


man  in  Christ  can  do  or  be.  *  *  *  *  A  mmister 
that  never  suifered,  that  never  knew  grief  or  poverty,  or 
deprivation  or  chastening,  would  be  a  barren  tree  in  the 
midst  of  a  wilderness.  It  is  the  heart  furrowed  deep 
with  the  ploughshare  of  suffering,  that  yields  harvests 
which  are  essential  to  the  spiritual  life  of  mankind. 

The  preacher  then  showed  how  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world,  in  the  life  of  Abraham  and  the  proph- 
ets, David,  and  other  Old  Testament  worthies,  they 
had  offered  up  the  same  prayer,  ''  Save  us  for  Thy 
mercy's  sake,"  and  that  when  Christ  appeared  in 
answer  to  this  God-begotten  prayer,  He  had  opened 
His  arms  to  the  people  and  said,  ''  Verily  I  say  unto 
you,  there  is  no  man  that  hath  left  house,  or  breth- 
ren, or  father,  or  mother,  or  wife  or  children,  or  lands 
for  my  sake  and  the  gospel's,  but  he  shall  receive  a 
hundred-fold  now  in  this  time,  houses,  and  brethren, 
sisters  and  mother  and  children,  and  lands  with  per- 
secutions, and  in  the  world  to  come  eternal  life." 

This  is  the  new  evangel.  The  curse  is  forgotten  ; 
Abram  is  forgotten;  Israel  is  no  longer  mentioned;  and 
David  passes  from  the  mind.  "For  niy  sake  and  the 
eospel's,"  is  now  the  refrain.  That  Being  who  took 
upon  Himself  our  nature  and  became  a  man  of  sorrows, 
and  acquainted  with  grief,  who  had  not  where  to  lay  His 
head,  whose  wealth  was  unseen,  and  whose  power  was 
hidden,  is  to  millions  the  chiefest  among  ten  thousand, 
and  the  one  altogether  lovely;  and  for  His  sake, and  His 
eospePs,  they  are  ready  to  endure  trial  suffering  perse- 
cution,  bear 'obloquy  and  martyrdom  that  they  may  tell 
the  story  of  his  undying  love.      Such  a  minister  was 

James  S.  Dickerson.     *     *     *  ^         ^,  .,,,  „„ 

Youncr  Dickerson  converted,  was  from  the  outset  an 

uncompromising  Baptist.  Everyone  ^^^^^i -''9^  mT  h^ 
one  respected  him  for  it.  How  came  this?  Not  by 
compromising  with  the  truth;   not  by  betraying  friend- 


326 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


( 


ship;  not  by  keeping  silence  when  the  occasion  demanded 
honest  speech.  He  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree  the 
power  of  self-abnegation.  He  was  the  soul  of  honor. 
He  wore  a  window  over  his  heart,  and  you  could  look 
within  and  see  Christ  on  the  throne  and  behold  His  dis- 
ciple sitting  meekly  at  the  feet  of  Him  who  is  too  wise 
to  err,  and  too  good  to  be  unkind.  He  was  a  decided 
Christian.  He  was  the  youngest  in  his  class,  and  per- 
haps the  smartest,  but  he  never  sought  promotion,  nor 
did  he  court  honor.  Praise  was  sweet  to  him.  To  earn 
it  and  not  to  claim  it  was  his  habit.  He  could  live  if  he 
was  not  chief.  He  entered  Hamilton  Institution  in  1842, 
and  graduated  in  1848  with  the  highest  honors  of  his 
class.  But  his  throat  troubled  him,  and  as  he  could  not 
then  preach,  he  did  the  next  best  thing,  helped  others  to 
do  so,  and  went  with  Martin  B.  Anderson  into  the  New 
York  Recorder.  The  Bible  Union  excitement  was  at  its 
height.  Giants  walked  the  earth  then  if  ever  in  politics 
and  religion.  Webster,  Clay  and  Calhoun  were  about 
retiring  from  active  duty;  Douglas  and  Lincoln  were 
getting  ready  for  their  memorable  campaign.  The  bat- 
tle of  freedom  was  then  being:  foui^ht  with  words.  The 
time  for  bullets  followed  in  hot  haste.  In  the  relimous 
world  there  was  no  rest,  no  calm,  no  quiet;  but  all  was 
war,  relentless  war.  *  *  *  Dr.  Dickerson  possessed 
a  composite  character.  He  could  have  been  a  great 
student.  No  man  with  keener  zest  followed  the  track 
of  truth.  No  one  was  more  loyal  to  it.  No  one  was 
more  brave  in  defense  of  it;  no  one  would  more  readily 
make  sacrifices  for  it.  And  yet  he  was  the  merriest,  the 
wittiest,  the  most  genial  and  generous  of  men.  *  *  * 
There  is  a  story  told  of  William  Guthrie,  that  on  one 
occasion  he  had  been  entertaining  a  company  with  mirth- 
provoking  anecdotes,  and  being  called  on  afterward  to 
pray,  he  poured  out  his  heart  with  such  deep-felt  fervor 
to  God,  that  all  were  melted.  When  they  rose  from 
their  knees,  Durham,  of  Glasgow,  a  grave,  solid  man,  as 
he  is  described,  took  him  by  the  hand  and  said,  "Willie, 
you  are  a  happy  man.  If  I  had  laughed  as  much  as  you 
did  awhile  ago,  I  could  not  have  prayed  for  four  and 
twenty  hours."     Dr.  Dickerson  resembled  Guthrie.     He 


m^^9S^.i'^'^d^ 


MEMORIAL  SERMON. 


327 


could  laugh  and  he  could  pray.  His  laughter  and  wit 
were  to  his  life  what  are  the  ripples  to  the  surface  of  a 
beautiful  and  deep-flowing  stream.  As  I  thmk  of  him  1 
remember  how  I  used  to  laugh  at  his  gleaming  wit  but 
forffet  what  was  said  and  only  think  of  what  was  done. 
I  have  driven  with  him  for  hours  along  the  shaded  roads 
about  Boston,  and  have  talked  with  him  about  the  work 
in  which  we  were  engaged;  and  although  I  remember 
his  conversation  from  the  moment  he  took  his  seat  in  the 
carriao-e  was  most  enlivening  and  entertaining,  and  I  am 
consci^ous  that  witty  things  were  said,  and  that  we  laughed 
like  boys  let  loose  to  play,  my  memory  does  not  hold 
stories  told  or  bon-mots  uttered,  but  rather  the  purpose 
formed  and  strengthened  to  stand  for  God  and  truth  with 
new  courage  and  with  fresh  hope.  Whether  in  private 
or  in  public,  I  never  have  known  a  man  who  lived  more 
entirely  "for  Christ  and  His  gospel." 

The  preacher  then  describes  a  man  who  enters  the 
pulpit  from  other  than  the  highest  motives,  the  honor 
of  God,  and  the  salvation  of  men,  and  adds : 

For  such  a  man  Dr.  Dickerson  had  the  most  intense 
scorn.  In  his  estimation  the  ministry  is  the  noblest  of 
professions,  if  a  man's  heart  is  in  it;  if  otherwise,  it  is 
the  most  irksome  and  galling  of  professions.  No  talent, 
no  genius,  no  popularity  can  sustain  a  man  in  the  pastoral 
office  who  ignores  the  work,  the  consecration  and  the  sac- 
rifice the  profession  demands.  *  *  *  Dr  Dickerson 
had  great  success,  but  not  at  the  expense  of  pn^c^P  e. 
He  found  his  success  in  God.  He  served  Him  faithfully, 
and  organized  for  victory.  He  expected  it  to  come  be- 
cause God  kept  His  throne. 

He  then  refers  to  his  great  boldness  in  standing 
for  the  right ;  to  his  work  in  Delaware  and  says  that : 

When  it  cost  some  sacrifice  here  in  the  North  to 
stand  true  to  liberty,  he  in  the  South,  in  a  slave  State, 
threw  the  stars  and  stripes  over  his  pulpit,  and  preached 
a  sermon,  the  key-note  of  his  work  which  followed,  which 
Lincoln  acknowledged  held  the  state  to  the  Union. 


a-n-T- 


828 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


1^ 


From  the  outset  he  chose  Christ.  He  was  an  out  and  out 
Baptist.  "For  my  sake  and  the  gospel's"  he  lived,  and 
moved,  and  had  his  being.  His  purpose  ennobled  him. 
He  believed  that  he  would  be  accursed  if  he  preached 
any  other  gospel  than  that  given  him  by  Christ.  He  felt 
that  he  was  a  necessity.  God  had  work  for  him  to  do. 
He  was  conscious  of  it.  He  never  undervalued  himself, 
nor  did  he  allow  himself  to  be  undervalued.  Good  words, 
and  good  government  and  social  order  all  stood  identified 
with  his  work.  He  lived  above  the  world  because  he 
lived  for  God.  His  eye  was  on  his  Master,  and  His 
smile  was  his  reward.  *  *  *  Such  a  man  can  preach 
the  gospel.  His  life  is  a  mallet  with  which  to  drive  the 
Christ  of  his  tongue.  He  is  on  the  Rock,  while  others 
are  sinking  into  the  wave.  He  can  stretch  out  to  lost 
men  a  helping  hand.  God  is  to  him  not  only  a  necessity, 
but  a  joy;  not  only  a  covert  from  the  storm,  but  a  home, 
a  pleasure,  and  a  delight.  *  *  *  jje  has  gone  to 
Heaven  leaving  behind  a  memory  unstained  by  a  single 
base  or  selfish  act. 

Dr.  Fulton  then  speaks  of  the  noble  manner  in 
which  Mr.  Dickerson,  when  associated  with  Dr.  An- 
derson, managed  the  New  York  Recorder^  and  after- 
ward the  Christian  Chronicle  in  Philadelphia;  of  his 
work  for  the  Publication  Society ;  and  then  of  his 
success  as  pastor  in  Wilmington,  Pittsburgh  and  Bos- 
ton. He  knew  him  best  in  Boston,  and  from  what 
he  says  of  his  life  there  we  make  some  extracts. 

In  Boston  he  was  at  home.  Everybody  loved  him,  and 
he  seemed  to  love  everybody.  His  residence  was  within 
sight  of  Boston  Harbor,  Dorchester  Height^  and  the 
finest  stretch  of  hill  and  valley,  sea  and  islands,  city  and 
shipping  that  can  be  found  in  the  world.  He  gloried  in 
the  scenery,  and  he  loved  the  town.  As  a  preacher  he 
took  high  rank  from  the  first.  As  a  platform  speaker 
he  had  no  superior.  Wendell  Phillips  could  not  sway 
an  audience  with  a  more  perfect  mastery.  As  a  temper- 
ance orator  he  was  next  to  Gough.     As  in  Pittsburgh, 


MEMORIAL  SERMON. 


329 


money  was  to  be  raised  and  he  raised  it;  burdens  were 
to  be  lifted  and  his  shoulder  was  first  under  the  load,  and 
the  last  to  leave  it.  He  never  dreamed  of  failure,  and 
never  prepared  for  defeat.  He  expected  victory,  and 
always  had  his  band  in  waiting  to  welcome  the  combat- 
ants. He  saw  in  every  man  a  brother,  and  was  ready  to 
act  toward  every  man  a  brother's  part.  He  loved  God 
with  all  his  heart  and  mind  and  strength,  and  his  neigh- 
bor as  himself.  He  never  loved  unwisely.  No  stain 
ever  came  to  the  white  soul  and  noble  life  of  James  S. 
Dickerson.  He  went  up  to  Heaven  leaving  behind  a  wife 
rich  with  magnificent  and  loving  memories,  and  children 
inheriting  a  record  of  which  all  might  well  be  proud.  *  *  * 

He  had  marvelous  power  over  the  impenitent.  He 
knew  how  to  speak  of  Jesus  to  sinful  men.  His  adapta- 
tion to  circumstances  was  wonderful.  He  could  track 
doubt  to  its  hiding-place,  and  uncover  the  possibilities 
of  faith  to  the  despairing.  He  was  never  at  a  loss  lor 
an  expedient.  I  have  seen  him  in  a  convention,  when  a 
congregation  was  surging  with  excitement,  rise  with  a 
resolutfon,  perhaps  with  a  joke,  or  perhaps  with  an  ap- 
peal, perhaps  with  a  smile  and  perhaps  with  a  tear,  and 
that  catch  in  his  voice  which  was  sure  to  create  sympathy, 
mark  out  a  way,  and  invite  all  to  follow;  and  by  the  turn 
of  a  thought,  or  by  the  touch  of  a  metaphor,  carry  the 
people  with  him  and  win  the  day. 

The  reward  of  surrendering  all  to  Christ  is  seen  in 
what  came  to  him.  In  his  union  with  the  church  he  came 
into  fellowship  with  a  company  of  friends  that  stood  by 
him  till  the  last.  They  helped  him  in  college,  they  helped 
him  to  position,  to  a  trip  to  Europe,  to  a  home,  and  stood 
by  him  all  through.  His  best  friends  were  God's  friends. 
This  reward  is  seen  in  his  early  home.  His  first  wife 
was  found  in  Utica.  She  was  the  adopted  daughter  of 
Julius  SptSiicer,  a  man  who  held  an  honored  place  there. 
The  present  Mrs.  Dickerson  was  one  of  her  best  friends, 
and  this  was  a  comfort  to  him  whom  both  loved.  She 
died  after  a  short  illness,  and  left  behind  four  children, 
one  helpless  from  hip-disease.  His  second  wife  was  to 
him  a  perpetual  source  of  love.  It  did  me  good  to  hear 
him  talk  of  wife  and  children.     I  saw  him  soon  after  his 


14» 


330 


JAMES  S.  DICKERSON. 


!i 


baby's  eyes  closed  on  earth  and  opened  in  Heaven.  How 
sweet  his  trust !  How  joyous  his  outlook  !  I  saw  him 
when  the  little  child  came  to  him  who  gladdened  the  last 
hours  of  life  here.  He  was  a  fortunate  man  in  his  home, 
and  in  what  his  home  brought  him.  He  lived  for  it.  He 
would  not  go  to  Europe  without  his  wife.  1  hat  tour  was 
a  treasure  of  joy  to  him  ever  after.  His  reward  is  /ound 
in  his  friends.  Honors  came  to  him  early.  In  I80I  the 
the  University  of  Rochester  conferred  upon  him  his  A. 
M.,  and  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  I^iyi"i;y  ^ame  to  him 
from  the  University  of  Lewisburg  in  18G8.  He  gave 
all  to  Christ.  In  every  place  he  took  the  burden  on  his 
heart  which  Christ  would  have  carried  had  He  been  man- 
ifest He  worked  where  Christ  would  have  him  work, 
and  as  nearly  as  possible  as  Christ  would  have  worked 
As  the  result  he  obtained  a  hundred-fold  in  this  life,  and 
has  entered  upon  life  everlasting. 

There's  a  Divinity  within, 
That  makes  men  great  whene'er  they  will  it; 
God  works  with  all  who  dare  to  win, 
And  the  time  cometh  to  reveal  it. 

And  now  my  pleasant  duty  is  discharged.  I  have 
spoken  of  my  friend,  in  my  poor  way,  as  best  I  could ; 
my  conception  of  the  man  is  within  and  untouched. 
1  have  failed  to  present  it.  But  you  know  something 
by  this  how  he  was  loved.  In  due  time  I  expect  to 
meet  him.  He  will  be  popular  in  Heaven  Methinks  1 
see  him  very  near  Christ,  more  like  John  than  any  other 
-the  bravest,  the  truest,  the  one  disciple  whofoUowed 
Christ  into  the  Judgment  Hall,  and  stood  by  Him  close 
to  the  cross.  There%hey  are  in  the  light  of  the  throne 
We  shall  see  them  by-and-by.  Let  us  seek  by  noble 
and  unselfish  living  to  take  up  the  fallen  mantle  and 
walk  forth  into  the  shadows  of  earth  to  minister  unto  all 
as  best  we  can,  till  Jesus  comes. 


i?i 


i 


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